


Another Man's Shoes

by Naja_Nivea



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Genocide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naja_Nivea/pseuds/Naja_Nivea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Truth is always listening and after Mustang and Fullmetal have one of their famous spats, The Truth decides they need to understand one and other a bit better by learning of the other's unique experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Man's Shoes

A/N: This story was written for the FMA BigBang community and does has some wonderful art work to accompany it by kirathaune

Warnings: These are not to be ignored as this is a somewhat dark story

There is Rape of a woman that is depicted as brutal and violent, not kink.

There is mention of triggering events such as death, child abuse and neglect, codependent relationships, and PTSD related issues

There is mention of recreational alcohol use bordering on alcoholism

There is an explicit sexual scene

There is exploration of abortion as a form of birth control

There is violence and genocide (in keeping with the canon)

There is extensive exploration of depression and attempted suicide.

There is an original female character, though she has four legs and is more of a plot device than a character.

If that hasn't scared you away then enjoy.

**Another Man's Shoes**

Edward kicked at an offending pebble in his way as he huffed, "stupid bastard." Al simply ignored him and clinked along in the dusk of East City. "I mean, who does that stuck up prick think he is? He gets to know anything and everything about us and what we are doing but we don't get to know shit about him?" He ranted.

"Brother, you were snooping in his desk," Al started; trying to diffuse the tirade he knew was brewing. They had been in Mustang's office, waiting for him to finish a meeting with General Grumman so they could report. Edward had gotten bored and started looking at the bookshelves, then progressed to the papers lying on the low table between the couches. There hadn't been anything interesting there either. The Colonel kept his really good books in his lab, which he kept the door hidden by Alchemy, only Hawkeye and Grumman knowing it's actual location, and the papers were mostly budget sheets that made his head spin. All obvious means of entertaining himself spent, Edward had moved to the large desk. Now generally speaking, they both agreed that there wasn't any reason for either of them to ever be on  _his_ side of the desk but Edward was bored and hopped up on sugar and sank into the Colonel's chair.

Elric had goofed around a bit, spinning in the chair and complaining that his feet didn't hit the ground, but then he started to root around in the drawers. Most of them weren't interesting like pages and pages of someone trying to balance extremely complex Alchemy equations, though there was a disturbing amount of empty bottles of aspirin and antacids, not to mention a clean shirt and a blanket. There was more papers, many of them with arrays scribbled on them or cartoon doodles of Black Hayate. But in the very back of the bottom drawer, behind the bottle of scotch, 2 shot glasses and extra clips for his gun, there was a photograph, warn with the edges foxed and faded. . It had the telltale bends of having been carried in a wallet and frequently removed. It looked like an original of one of those newspaper photos about the war in Ishval, he had remembered seeing now and again on Granny's tableIt took both of them a moment to puzzle it out, but it was of 3 soldiers sitting around a fire, all wearing long cream colored coats.

The first one had an elegant desert gazehound curled at his feet, back mostly to the camera and hood pulled over his head, but a shock of dark hair still stuck out, not that it was needed, the white gloves with the salamander array were a dead giveaway. Though Al figured it out faster from the dog, she was pretty distinctive looking. The first soldier was Roy Mustang. The second soldier was a bit harder to place. The flash had reflected off his glasses, obscuring his eyes but Al recognized him first, from his square chin and the hint of a smile around his lips. It was Hughes. The final person was more slight of build than the others and had a long riffle leaning against them. Blonde hair hung into their eyes and their delicate hand was extended towards Mustang, as if he was about to hand them something or perhaps rest their hand on his leg. It was a moment in time, forever frozen, and clearly cherished.

"Is that Lt. Hawkeye?" Al had asked, even has he felt they were doing something very wrong by looking at it. It was clear that the picture had been carried far and wide but well cared for, a treasured possession of an extremely private person.

"I don't know, maybe," Edward flipped the picture over to read the text on the back. It read, " _remember, no matter where you go or what happens, you aren't alone anymore, little orphan boy,"_ and was signed  _love_ " _your brother"_ and " _Riza."_

Before either of them could comment on the discovery that the other soldier was in fact, Hawkeye, they heard a bellowed, "just what the hell do you two think you are doing?" from Mustang. From there things had gone downhill fast. Flame and Fullmetal had gotten into an all-out screaming match at each other that culminated in the two Elric brothers getting kicked out of Eastern Command in front of everyone, ergo Edward's rotten mood. Al, for his part, was sorry for invading their commanding officer's privacy but he also understood why Edward was so angry. Edward had tried to give as good as he had gotten but he just wasn't old enough to have the breadth of vocabulary, real world knowledge, and cold heart to verbally rend someone into tiny pieces. His brother had been thoroughly humiliated in front of the other men for nothing more than finding a memento that proved Mustang actually did have feelings.

"Whether I was snooping or not, doesn't matter," Edward pulled Al's attention back to the present, "he over reacted about something stupid. And how are we supposed to trust him, when he won't let us know anything about him? Maybe he doesn't really want us to get our bodies back," Ed continued.

"Brother, you know that isn't true. Colonel Mustang has always been good to us and never given us a reason to distrust him. He's bent over backwards to help us," Al defended, knowing Ed didn't really mean what he was saying, at least he hoped. He had always found Flame to be a rather pleasant person most of the time. He could be a bit aloof sometimes and maybe a bit too sarcastic but he couldn't forget all the times the Colonel had kept him company at night, teaching him to play chess, taking walks together and talking about nothing of consequence, or even taking him to the roof of the command building to watch the sun rise. He often wondered why the man seemed to have such a habit of being up in the middle of the night but had never had the courage to ask. He was just too thankful for the companionship, even if sometimes Mustang did seem drunk or jumpy.

"He hasn't given us any reason yet, but that doesn't mean he won't," Ed groused, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "If I had one wish, it would be to find out what that Bastard is hiding behind those black eyes of his," he mused as they made their way into the dining hall. Neither of them realized that the Truth was always listening.

Hawkeye balanced a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich, a nearly lethal amount of mustard included, on her wrist as she knocked on the basement wall. Anyone seeing her would probably think she was a nut but it was after 11pm on a Friday so there weren't many people around. Anyone that knew better, would realize she was trying to get Roy's attention in his lab. Flame's Alchemy lab was an oddity in Eastern Command a he was the only State Alchemist stationed here. He had transfigured himself a rather spacious room directly in the bedrock under the Command Building that could only be opened with Alchemy. She didn't like the fact that if he weren't around, there was no way in or out of it and had once pointed out that if anything happened to him in there, they would only know when the smell hit. Afterwards he had agreed to make one wall thin enough to cut through if need be. That was the wall she knocked on. It wasn't his only subterranean remodel of East City, as there was also a tunnel that connected his lab to his flat and her flat and a well-used one that connected her bedroom closet to his kitchen. All designed so no one was ever the wiser that they spent at least half their nights together because all anyone ever saw was the two of them entering their own homes. It still annoyed her though that she couldn't activate them.

After a moment, the wall disappeared in a crackle of energy, revealing Roy in his rolled up shirt sleeves and hair even messier than usual. She stepped in, avoiding the arrays drawn on the floor. Anyone not familiar with Alchemists, and even some that were, would think this place was the lair of a mad man. The walls, floor, ceiling and parts of the table were made of smooth slate and on every available surface, there was writing. Some of them equations, while some were arrays, and others still were complex computations. All of it was written in Roy's cramped upright script and heavily encrypted in his personal code. Alchemists really were paranoid bastards. He, however, was disorganized even for an Alchemist or maybe especially for an Alchemist but she had learned long ago that his mind didn't seem to work the same way normal people's did. He did his best thinking the more chaotic a situation or a room was. He was the oddest mix of hyper analytical and strangely intuitive on the planet. The only other person she had ever met that managed to make the same sort of weirdly brilliant jumps in logic as him was Kimblee and he didn't like being compared to Red Lotus.

She pushed some papers out of the way and placed the plate and tall glass of milk on the soapstone work top. "I didn't see you in the dining hall," she opened by way of an explanation. She had checked his office and his house keys were still there so he hadn't gone home to eat, which wasn't surprising at all. His flat had no icebox and exactly 6 pieces of furniture comprised of a coffee table, kitchen table with 2 mismatched chairs, wardrobe, and a couch all purchased 2nd hand for less than the cost of dinner for two. He didn't even have a bed because he was too lazy and or too cheap to buy one. But then again he spent 80% of his time sleeping in his office, his lab, or her place rather than his own.

He only gave her a  _well no shit_ look in return to her inquiry. She knew damn well he was avoiding Fullmetal, who would invariably end up in the mess hall. She sat down on the other stool and stared at him, waiting for him to take the food. He might have been able to wait her out except his stomach growled loudly and he finally grinned, reaching for the sandwich. He took a bite, smiling as the coarse ground mustard he liked seeped out of the edges. She was somewhat insulted he thought she wouldn't remember his second favorite condiment behind malt vinegar. He couldn't stand sweets but the more sour or frankly abrasive tasting something was, the more he liked it. Lucky for her, he liked his women that way too.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he licked a drop of mustard off his hand.

"It's not a problem, I couldn't have you going hungry, now could I?" she answered, though what she really wanted to say was,  _I had to see for my own eyes that you were really down here sulking rather than risk seeing Edward, you craven coward._ "I'm sure Edward and Alphonse are sorry about looking through your desk," she started.

"Alphonse, I believe you, with Edward, I suspect you mean he was sorry I finally snapped and actually acted like his commanding officer?" he snarked.

"No, because his commanding officer would have called him into his office and had a private conversation about respecting privacy, not blow a gasket at him in front of all his peers for a simple, childish mistake," she corrected and he scowled. She had some sympathy for him though. They had just left a meeting where he found out he was going to have to go to the Southern front for 6 weeks to try and "quiet down the opposition" as they called it but in reality they wanted to him to rain fire on them until they were too frightened or there weren't enough of them to fight back. Now that Kimblee was imprisoned, this type of job fell always to him as the most destructive and frankly terrifying of the combat Alchemists. She also suspected there was resentment too because he had fought for 2 hours straight to not have Fullmetal accompany him. But then again, Edward had no idea how close he had come to being a Government weapon.

"He can't have it both ways, Elrich can't expect to be treated like a kid when he screws up but an adult when he wants something," he explained.

"That's how all teenage boys are," she filled in, remembering another boy at that age that thought he was all grown up but really just wanted someone to let him be a kid. He had grown into a weirdly hyper responsible yet oddly immature adult. But that was just how Mustang was. His entire life and his being was one of obsessive control that hid manic extremes. Sometimes he was just tiring to deal with but she supposed she still loved the bloke, even when he made it incredibly hard. But because of that dichotomy, he couldn't relate to someone as open and artless as Edward.

"Regardless, violation of my personal privacy is just out of bounds," he ground out. She understood his annoyance, she would have been irate if they had done that to her and she also knew part of his reaction had been fear that they had found what could be construed as proof of fraternization between the two of them but she also saw Edward's side. He had been a board kid that had a chance to snoop around in his  _big brother's room,_ of course he was going to take full advantage of it _. "_ I just wish that stupid kid would learn he has no entitlement to my private affairs."

She knew she wasn't going to get anywhere with him tonight. People frequently commented that he and Edward had similar tempers but she and Hughes disagreed. Where Edward had flash in the pan anger, it was much harder to rouse Roy to great displays of fury. However once mad, Fullmetal wore himself out quickly and forgave just as fast, where Flame was just like his name. He burned long and hot, sometimes keeping grudges for frankly ridiculous amounts of time. And right now he was still in such a rotten mood she didn't even want to be around him. She supposed it was half Edward and half his new assignment. At least he didn't try to get her to stay behind anymore, like he used to. He'd finally accepted that where he went, she went and it sounded way more stalkerish than she wanted it to.

She rose and stood close to him, waiting for him to turn to face her. Once he did she reached out and lovingly wiped mustard off the corner of his mouth with her thumb, feeling his face curve into a soft smile as she did. He hooked his thumbs into her belt loops and wrapped his fingers around the sides of her hips, an intimate gesture but they were alone. "General Gran will be here Monday and you have a meeting with him and Grumman at 9am, so don't stay in here all weekend stewing in your own juices," she cautioned and heard him huff a small laugh. If he did, it wouldn't be the first time he had gotten caught up working on something and completely lost track of time and not just hours but days. She was used to it though; she was the daughter of an Alchemist. As much as most people saw him as a Colonel that happened to be an Alchemist, she and anyone else that knew him well, knew he was an Alchemist that happened to be a Colonel.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a mock salute, making her smile in return. She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, again marveling at how thick it was. She wondered briefly if she should stay but then decided not to. It was the wrong time in her cycle and would be unsatisfying for both of them.

"I'll see you Monday," she walked to the wall, waiting for him to open it, "and stop being so childish about Edward," she called back as he sealed the wall up and he stuck his tongue out at her as he gave her a wink with his left eye; his private way to say  _I love you_. She touched her bottom lip in return and watched him disappear behind the wall, telling him,  _I know_.

******

Edward had been dreaming about the Truth and became aware of the world around him from the feel of the breeze ruffling his loose hair and tickling his stomach where his shirt had ridden up in his sleep. He also felt someone nudging him with their foot. Sadly, what met his eyes as he opened them was a pissed off looking Colonel glaring down at him. "Wake up, Fullmetal." Edward sat up and noticed a few things, first off, he was in his boxers and tank top, while Mustang was fully dressed in his uniform; complete with gloves and black trench coat. Did that asshole even sleep in his uniform? Second, he was not in his bed in the barracks, but was under a tree in a field and had no memory of how he got there. Finally, Al was nowhere to be found.

He sat up and ask, "what's going on, where are we?"

"No idea, I was hoping you could tell me," the Colonel groused, scanning the horizon for clues. Something about this place was achingly familiar and made him want to smile and cry. He pushed himself up as Mustang hopped the short stone fence to get to the dirt road. "Someone is coming this way, we can ask them where we are," he explained even as Ed had a pretty good idea where they were but something seemed off. "And, Fullmetal, you might want to transmute yourself some pants," he smirked and Edward thought about punching him.

As the man drew closer, Ed could make out long blond hair, a thick beard, and glasses. He knew that face, he knew that man, Hohenheim. Without even thinking, he felt anger well inside of him at his father. The man who had left them when they were just children and hadn't been there for them when they needed him. He had done nothing even remotely fatherly for them, hell, it had been Mustang that had explained sex, wet dreams, and how to shave to him, not this useless human.

"Excuse me, sir," Mustang started politely even as Edward shot forward and yelled.

"You bastard, you are just going to walk by and ignore me!" Hohenheim walked on, not even looking towards them. "You asshole, even if you don't recognize me, you could at least acknowledge the Colonel," he shouted but his father was unfazed, almost as if he didn't hear them.

"You know this man," Mustang asked and Ed shook his head yes.

"He's my deadbeat, no account father," he snarled and extended his hand to grab the man and shake some sense into him, only his hand went straight through. "What the?" he asked.

"Sir, Mr. Hohenheim, sir," Mustang tried again, moving in front of the older man, who simply walked right through him. "That was messed up," he said, looking down at himself as he Edward turned on his heels and started stalking along the road in the other direction. "Fullmetal wait, we need to figure out what is going on."

"You figure it out. I'm walking," he grumbled as he kicked at a stone with his automail foot and watched his foot pass through it. "We're incorporeal, intangible," he marveled, anger forgotten for a moment at the discovery.

"That isn't possible," Mustang argued.

"Maybe you missed the part where Hohenheim walked right through you?"

"Then why aren't we being slingshot into space? If we are intangible, we lack mass and gravity can only affect matter with mass. The rotation of the earth should send us spinning into the upper atmosphere at best." Hmm, he did have a point but Ed couldn't ignore what he had just seen.

"Maybe we're dead?" Ed thought out loud.

"No, dreaming maybe," Mustang countered.

"Why not dead?" Edward remembered a bit of his dream. The Truth laughing at him about lessons learned and walking in another man's shoes, walking, they had to keep walking.

"Because, Fullmetal, I highly doubt you would end up the same place after death that I will," he answered and fell into an easy step beside Ed, who gave him a questioning look. "You wanted to walk this way, so we'll walk. Besides, something about this place makes me think I'm been here before." Ed kept his mouth shut, even when they crested a yellow house came into view that he knew he had burned down years ago. Roy gave him a look but kept his mouth quiet, even as they walked through the front door and were met with him and Al as small children and his mother happily making breakfast. He couldn't fight the tears at the sight of her and Mustang simply looked away, trying to make it as normal as possible. "She was a very beautiful woman, Fullmetal," he complimented her quietly as he sobbed.

It made no sense, none of it did but soon the scene changed without them moving, no longer were they in the kitchen of Edward's child hood home, now they were in Pinako's work room. He felt a strange sensation like they were being pulled towards someone and simultaneously feeling their thoughts and emotions. He looked over and noticed Mustang seemed to experiencing the same thing. Before he could question, he was swept up in what appeared to be Pinako's emotions.

" _Old fool!" she thought as she patted Trisha's hand. The poor thing had been doing an admirable job of keeping it together for her two sons the last few days but it was clear she was at her limit. A single tear rolled down the woman's face and she quickly wiped it away, not wanting Edward to look back and see it._

" _I understand why he left, I just wish he could have waited longer, could have let them get to know him better," she choked out. Sometimes she wished she had never introduced the two. Oh there was a time they has seemed happy, that Trisha had made him see like a young man, full of life but it didn't last. It couldn't last, not with someone like him. He was too set in his ways of being alone and he had never really bonded with those kids, not the way he should have. No he had been trouble for this sweet girl from the start but she hadn't been able to bring herself to talk either of them out of it._

_She watched the poor dear begin to weep and rose to get more tea and maybe something stronger. As her back was turned, she didn't see the small blond whirlwind, named Edward, run into the room. If she had, she would have stopped him from bothering his mother. The little boy stopped beside her, tugging on her sleeve with his dirty hand. She quickly wiped her eyes and smiled at him._

" _Look, Mom, look what we made!" He held his hand out and showed her a beautiful crystal rose._

" _Oh, Edward, it's lovely," she gasped and accepted the gift. The little boy smiled up at her and ran out of the room to find his brother and friend. Trisha set the gift down and accepted the cup of tea. "I'll miss him but I suppose I got the longer end of the stick, two as a matter of fact," as he looked out at her sons playing in the yard._

They seemed to be released from whatever their hold was and the scene seemed to dissolve around them. There was light to their left and with no other plans, they followed it. Mustang was the first to brave the silence.

"That was interesting. It was like we were targeted in on her emotions, that old woman, Pinochle, or whatever her name is."

"Pinako," Edward corrected testily. He was not happy that the Bastard Colonel saw him running around in shorts and scraped knees. The guy already treated him like such a kid anyway, which was really annoying because he wasn't really that much older than him. He wasn't even 30 yet and he certainly didn't act like he had a right to treat Edward like a kid.

"Sorry, Pinako, but it was a rather interesting sensation. It's like we are supposed to be learning something from them," Mustang mused. At least the asshole was focusing on the problem and not the fact that he had had a pudding stain on his shirt.

"You're right. Something tells me this is all a big trick or game and we have no choice but to play along, at least until we get our bodies back," he stopped, "or our mass back, I suppose."

"Then I suggest we head that way," the Colonel motioned towards the light and Edward fell into step beside him. They walked for a few minutes before Mustang said, "she must have really loved you. You could see the way just looking at you lit her whole face up."

"She was the best mother anyone could ever ask for," Edward replied, swallowing back tears. "But I guess everyone thinks that, huh?"

"I guess so," the Colonel answered noncommittally.

As they walked, they were pulled into scene after scene from Edward and Al's childhood though they were not really in order. They saw things like the two of them studying at night, eating with Pinako and Winrey, even one very annoying scene from not long ago where Mustang had taught Edward how to shave. He wondered if he would ever live that one down. But the worst came later, as they walked into a room he wished he could forget. They both recognized it immediately, Edward from memory and Mustang from the array on the ground. This was where they had tried to bring back Mom.

Edward tried to run but the door refused to open, he turned away and refused to look, made worse by the fact that his old self was the target. He sat slumped in the corner as he was forced to relive the worst thing he had ever done. Part way through, he noticed Mustang sit beside him even though he didn't lift his head. The Colonel said nothing and watched on, for which he was grateful. As the scene finally allowed them to leave, Edward all but ran from the room, Mustang following at a more leisurely pace.

After a few minutes, Flame caught up to him and Edward watched him out of the corner of his eyes, and sniffled, "now you have seen the worse day of my life, are you going to taunt me?" He wanted to sound tough but really he sounded miserable, even to his own ears.

"No, it's not like I didn't know about it already and if I remember correctly, I shook you around a bit the first time I saw it. I'm more sanguine about it now." He gave Fullmetal a cheeky grin.

"So you think it's funny?"

"I don't think it's funny. You made a mistake, and awful, terrible, utterly boneheaded mistake but you were young and you didn't have anyone to tell you not to do it. If your father hadn't walked out on you, you might not have been so desperate or he might have been able to convince you it was an idiotic move. Who knows, but you can't let it define you, especially after you get your bodies back," Edward was surprised with the almost friendly comments. "And look at it this way, yes you broke an ancient taboo but as far as horrible days go, this one wouldn't even register." Edward didn't comment as they walked on, wondering what Mustang would consider a horrible day if this didn't qualify.

It was dark this time and they were in a city, Central if Ed was correct, though oddly he didn't recognize the place but one look at Mustang and it seemed he might, or at least recognized the people walking towards them. One was a man, tall and dressed in a military uniform. His insignia ranked him as a major and part of the special investigations division, like Hughes. He had dark auburn hair and light grey eyes. The woman was Xinese with thick, raven's wing black hair down to her waist. Her skin was china doll white and her eyes were a sparkling black. Though Edward preferred blondes, he had to admit she might have been one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. As they watched, she smiled and laughed, the man spinning her in an impromptu dance. Ed wondered for a moment what was so important about this place, and was about to question the Colonel but the man was ignoring him, his attention completely focused on the couple, all the way until they walked into a large townhouse. He moved to follow, until a crumpled newspaper blew in their path, stopping him dead.

"We should go," he said and spun on his heels, his coat flaring behind him.

Ed was about to follow but something didn't seem right. So far all of the places they had gone were Ed's memories but he didn't remember this place or those people, which meant they very well might have switched to being driven by Mustang's memories. Ed smiled to himself at the thought of seeing embarrassing moments in the Colonel's life, his strong desire to be away from here only made Ed more determined to stay. "No, I think we should stay and find out why we were are here."

"Trust me, you don't need to see this," Mustang said with his back turned.

"Why, was she one of your ex-girlfriends and you're about to do something stupid?" He taunted and rushed through the wall, completely ignoring his commanding officer's call to stop. Once on the other side, he was met with a fairly opulent home, with a marble entry and fine art everywhere. The man helped the women remove her wrap and ran kisses over her elegant neck. She spun in his arms, pressing herself against him, jade bracelets clinking together. This memory seemed odd, as they weren't really attached to anyone like they had been in most of Edward's memories. There was a slight pull of maybe the Roy here but it was tough to tell. Things seemed oddly disjointed and somewhat confusing as if Mustang wasn't sure what he really remembered. He had probably been too drunk to remember right. This was more like watching a play than reliving it. Why was that bastard Colonel so lucky?

"Mummy, Daddy," there was a call from the top of the staircase, as a young boy, maybe 4 years old crouched, looking through the spindles. Ed's jaw dropped. How had he not seen it before, how had he not noticed? The man's smile was the same as Mustang's along with the height and build. But he was his mother's son, in coloring, with black hair and eyes and that snow white complexion that somehow never looked sallow. Now it made sense why Roy wanted to avoid them, he didn't want Edward to see embarrassing childhood memories. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, lamenting that he should have realized his asshole commander would have grown up wealthy.

"Shouldn't little boys be in bed this time of night?" Daddy Mustang asked and he charged up the stairs and scooped Roy into a hug, making the little boy squeal with laughter. Even as Ed was mesmerized, he was also annoyed. Mustang's father had loved him, cared about him, wanted to play and spend time with him, all of the things Hohenheim had not done for him and Al. Jealousy was an ugly word and an even uglier feeling.

"Fullmetal, we should go," Mustang had come in to try and coax him away.

"No, you saw my childhood, why shouldn't I get to see yours?" he asked as he followed the family up the stairs to Roy's bedroom.

"That has nothing to do with it, we are leaving, that is an order," Flame barked and Edward ignored him again and watched Roy's mother run her fingers through her son's hair, which was unruly even then. He hung onto her jade bracelet, with his tiny starfish hand. The scene was broken though, by someone kicking in the front door and 5 men charging in, faces covered by masks. "Let's go, now, Fullmetal," he tried to grab Edward's arm but he shook out of his grasp.

"Who are you, what do you want?" Roy's father demanded as he pushed his wife and child behind himself.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Mustang?" One of the masked men asked, drawing a gun. They were speaking with a weird clipped accent he had never heard before. It might be Aerugo but maybe not. It was southern of some kind. "We told you to back off, to let the investigation drop or there would be consequences, well these are the consequences."

"Daddy, who are those men?" Young Roy asked, from his mother's arms.

"Don't worry about it, Roy Boy, everything is going to be ok, just go with your Mum," he smiled and touched his son's cheek. "Ti amo, mio figlio bellissimo." That was Aerugian, definitely but again the accent was quite strange.

"Oh no, we want her down here with you, now."

"She has nothing to do with this, let her and the child go! Those are the rules," Daddy Mustang tried again.

"Edward, please," Roy tried again to get Edward's attention and he almost looked back, but movement to the side of the hall caught his eye, just as an older Xinese women moved into the downstairs, where the men were. They didn't hesitate in shooting her in the chest. She fell to the ground, blood pooling from her mouth as it futilely gasped for air.

"Lien-hua!" Mummy Mustang screamed as she clutched Roy tighter to her.

"I believe you understand the level of our commitment to making you pay, now Major Mustang? If you please, get down here or the next one goes through your precious, little boy's skull," the leader of the men pointed his gun towards Roy and his mother, "both of you."

"Roy, go to your room and no matter what happens, don't come out," his mother whispered to him as she hugged him, "and never forget,  _Wo Ai Ni_ "

" _Wo Ai Ni,_ Mummy," he answered in return, still clutching her jade bracelet as it slipped off her wrist. Edward tried to place the phrase for a moment and it came to him from an annoying jewelry store jingle from a year or so back the said, "I love you," in a bunch of different languages. That one must have been Xianese. He was about to ask Mustang why he never mentioned he could speak it but his commanding officer had left. He could see him through the front window, sitting on the curb, with his back to the house.

Edward was about to start yelling, till the man in the front starting talking again. "You know, Mustang, we were originally going to jump you on your way home from work, but then I saw this gorgeous piece of ass you are married to and realized, shit, I need to get me a piece of that. Besides, you betray your family and your blood by marrying a slant eyed whore, she must be worth something in the sack," he said, as he grabbed Mummy Mustang by her long hair and tugged her to him, making her stumble on her high heels.

"Xia," Daddy Mustang yelled and lunged to get her back, but one of the other men, shot him in the knee cap, dropping him to the floor.

"David," she shouted in return, and lost her footing in the blood slowly coating the marble. The leader, used her hair to control her head, and angled her around, so that he could run his lips up her neck. Though the movement was the same, the feeling was so different from when Daddy Mustang had done it earlier. There were taunts and shouts from the other men as he threw her over the entryway table, using the high slit in her dress to rip it from her body, leaving her in only her garters, panties and camisole. Edward wanted to look away but he couldn't not when the first man took her or the other four, not until he heard a whimper and noticed that Roy was hiding at the top of the stairs, watching the whole thing. He felt sick at the sight of those eyes getting older by the second in that little boy's face.

By the time all five of the men were finished with Mummy Mustang, she was a mess of bruises and dead eyes. Daddy Mustang wasn't looking much better, shocky from blood loss and now also sporting a dislocated shoulder and broken jaw from fighting. As the last man dropped her, she crawled on her hands and knees towards her husband, even as he fought to get to her. About 5 inches short of reaching him, the leader shot her in the back of the head, the bridge of her nose and left eye exploding outward, and brains spraying across Daddy Mustang's face. "What a whore," the leader laughed and put his gun to Daddy Mustang's neck, pulling the trigger. All the while Roy hid at the top of the stairs, watching.

After the men left, Roy crept down the stairs, little feet making tracks in the blood and pajama pants soaked in red. "Mummy?" he knelt beside the ruin of his mother and touched her hair, his fingers coming away sticky with cerebral spinal fluid. She didn't answer. He moved on to his father, who still twitched, mouth open, gopping like a fish. Fullmetal could see the man's pupils were already blown, he was dead, his body just hadn't realized it yet. "Daddy? Daddy, what should I do?" he questioned, clutching the jade bracelet to his tiny chest. "Mummy won't answer and I don't know what to do?" He touched his hand to his father's twitching fingers, clearly seeking reassurance and Edward darted out of the house, choking on his gorge.

He retched, though nothing came up before he heard, "seen enough?" from his Mustang. The man was still sitting on the curb, his legs stretched forward into the street, hands behind him on the sidewalk, leaning back looking relaxed. Edward watched as the men threw a lit bottle of gasoline through the window, setting the entire house ablaze. Young Roy never came out and he made to run in after him, forgetting he couldn't affect things and that clearly Roy had survived. "Back door," the Colonel said.

"What?" Edward questioned feeling frantic and exhausted at the same time.

"I ran out through the back door, the old servant's entrance. They didn't know these pre military townhouses had carriage covers and servant's entrances around the back leading into the alley ways," he explained, his voice as calm as if he were talking about a meeting. Edward wanted to punch him.

"What was that?" he stammered as he collapsed on the curb beside his boss. "What the hell did I just watch?"

"Seems pretty obvious to me. You saw my parents and my nanny getting murdered and or raped and murdered, then my house burning down," he answered as fire trucks started to show up. "You know, I used to want to grow up to be a fireman," he said wistfully as the men began to douse the mostly destroyed house.

"How can you be so calm, those sons' of bitches just killed your parents and, and," he couldn't even say what else he had seen.

"Because it was 24 years ago and they are all long dead now," he explained as he stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his palms.

"Did you kill them?" Edward asked, wondering if he would do the same in this situation, probably not but he was mad enough to.

"No, I was far too young. Besides, they were Benevino thugs and their Capo killed them. You see my father was hired by the Führer, personally, to run a taskforce to try and cut down on gang violence in Central because his father had been an Underboss in one of Families, the Monsanto Family. Back then Gangs were constantly vying for control of the gun trade, drugs, prostitution, book, all the general illegal activities. There were 4 families that flip flopped who was on top and there was always a wake of dead bodies before it settled. My father was about to arrest 30 high ranking members of the families, mostly Benevino, and obviously, they didn't want to go to jail," he commented as he strolled along the street, hands in his pockets.

"What happened to those men? Did they get arrested?" Edward questioned as he finally followed the taller man away from the dimly lit street. Gaslights cast so much less light than the electric he was used to.

"No, it's actually an interesting story, I found out years later. The Families had rules about how, who, and when you could kill and two of those rules were that,  _you never involve people's families,_ for example their wife and kids _,_ and  _you never kill cops._  One of the associates that had been there, let slip to another solider what had happened. Their Capo found out about it and delivered the 4 remaining men's bodies to the Investigation Department, along with the head, minus the tongue, of the 5th for squealing. It was the price they had to pay to stop the Monsanto family for going after one of ours and starting a war. Benevino was known for the drug trade and being very violent but Monsanto were known for prostitution, book, and embezzlement, but more importantly trading in information. Their name to outsiders is  _the Secret Keepers_ because we know where all the money is and all the bodies are buried _._ No one crosses a Monsanto lightly or for very long." Edward didn't know it then, but years later that lattice work of spies would save the country without anyone being the wiser, all because Mustang was half Aerugian and his benign looking aunt was the Consigliere to Monsanto Boss. But most importantly, because Envy made a big mistake, he fucked with someone under Monsanto protection and under traditions older than Amestris itself, Roy had every right to hunt him down and exact retribution.

History lesson over, Edward pondered. He had heard about all of that in passing but knew that the Military had started an all-out war against the Gangs, most of who were from an ethnic group that had originated on an island off the cost of Aerugo but had come to Amestris in hopes of more freedom, since Aerugo was a monarchy. He had never heard anyone call them "Families" before. He wondered how much Mustang knew about them given that he apparently came from the same background, minus the Xinese mother and had referred to this "Monsanto Family" as  _we_ not  _they,_ but he supposed it didn't matter. He was frankly more surprised that the man wasn't curled up on the floor crying like he had been at seeing his own mother again.

"How are you ok with all this?" He blurted out, stopping under a flickering gaslight.

"Excuse me?"

"You just watched your parents get killed and you don't care?" Edward accused, fists clenching in resentment of the man's cool. How could he be so heartless?

"Technically I waited outside while they were getting killed," he smirked and he had to count backwards from 10 not to punch the man.

"That is beside the point, they were your parents and you act like it was nothing? Don't you care about anyone but yourself?" Ed spat.

"It was a long time ago, Fullmetal," Mustang explained as if talking to a child. "I was 4 and a half years old and I hardly remember any of it. I wasn't even sure it was them until I saw the name plate on the house. So while yes, in theory it saddens me, in practicality I don't know them well enough to be depressed by it," he rationalized.

"You really are a cold hearted, bastard, aren't you?" Edward threw at him as he charged forward, wanting away from this husk with no human emotions.

As before, the scene suddenly changed from the darkly lit streets to the inside of a white walled building that smelled of unwashed bodies and vegetable soup. Young Roy sat in a chair, too large for him, skinny leg swinging and his nose buried in a book as two people stood in the office behind him talking. One was an older man, with a badly receding hairline; the other was a tall woman, with red hair and light grey eyes. She was pretty, if severe, almost handsome in appearance. Her dress was very revealing for day time and had clearly seen better days. She listened to the man talk, methodically smoking.

"I don't mean to sound rude, Ms. Mustang, but we approached you 18 months ago about taking the boy but you weren't willing. What has changed?" Baldy asked the woman and Edward noticed the plaque on the wall,  _Central City Orphanage District 7_. He guessed it made sense, both of Mustang's parents were dead, where else would he end up, if not an orphanage. It surprised him that he never realized before that he and the Colonel had that in common, though he had never been a ward of the State. Pinako would never have allowed. Edward could feel himself attaching to the tall woman as his Target. He spared the bastard Colonel one last look and noticed an expression of utter boredom.

" _I wasn't in a good position to take the lad in before, now I am," she answered in a gruff voice. Why wouldn't this stupid sod just hand the kid and his money over? She needed to pay off some debts to the wrong sort of people or she was going to lose her club and that was not going to happen. Not when her brother had a pension that was being wasted on a whelp that didn't even realize his windfall._

" _With all due respect, ma'am, your situation doesn't appear to have changed at all. You still live over a bar and have 4 arrests and convictions for prostitution and running book. To be honest you are the type of person we usually take children away from."_

" _To be honest, I don't care. Unless you feel like going to court over it, the kid belongs to me and I'm the executor of his trust plus the 10,000 cenz a month for fostering the little half breed. So go get him," she commented, rather unkindly. It was too fucking early for this shit._

" _He's been sitting outside this entire time," the man sounded beyond annoyed as he rose to call Roy. "Roy, I have some good news for you. We've found your aunt and you are going to go and live with her," he smiled down at the little boy, who barely looked up from his book. "Why don't you go and pack your things."_

" _I don't have anything to pack," he finally spoke in a level voice. Damn the kid was pale and kind of creepy looking. She saw none of her brother in the brat, just that slant eyed bitch he'd married. But then again that had just been the last nail in the coffin of his relationship with his family. Being a copper for the military was a pretty big strike against a member of a crime family. Luckily she kept the spirit alive in her brothel but a madam needed protection and Roy boy's inheritance was going to provide the money to pay it until she could make her bones and get a Capo's protection._

" _Here," the man scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Roy, "take this to Mrs. Haversham in the library and she'll let you select 3 books you would like to take with you." Young Roy's eyes lit up and he scampered off. "Is there anything you would like to know about him before you leave?"_

" _Is there anything important?" To be honest she hadn't really thought much past getting the kid's money and the state stipend to worry about how to keep a kid entertained. Didn't they just go outside and play or something?_

" _He's a very bright boy, almost scarily smart. He already reads at a nearly adult level and knows all him multiplication and division tables by heart. I suspect he will be trouble for you if you don't keep him engaged besides, it would be a shame to let a mind like that wilt for lack of care." She smiled at that, it was a family trait to be sure. All the Mustangs were geniuses; most of them just used it for ill. "I trust you have him registered in school and have arranged child care when you are working?" The haughty man questioned her and she really wanted a drink or a bump of blow to keep her level. This prick was getting on her last fucking nerve._

" _I own my own business and there is a school down the road he can go to," she huffed and pulled out another cigarette. She hoped he could go anyway. She wasn't even sure what grade they taught or what grade the kid was in._

" _May I speak plainly, Ms. Mustang?" the man sat down and steepled his fingers. She waved him on, completely uninterested in anything he was planning on saying. "I am well aware of that child's history and well aware of who you are and what you do, as you employ many young girls that once lived here and we receive many more unwanted children from your trade. I also know that your family has long been linked with the Monsanto crime family but that does not need to be this child's fate. We were already in talks to send him to a private school for gifted students. I'm begging you to let him go there so that he doesn't end up as a strung out hustler," he spoke passionately and barely managed not to add 'like the rest of your kind.' Amestris may be the bastion of freedom as long as you weren't an immigrant from Aerugo or Ishvalan, or anyone other than military for that matter._

" _If the kid's as smart as you say, then he'll learn regardless of where he goes to school," she rose, flicking ash onto his desk. She saw the kid walking towards them, a small back pack over his shoulder and 3 large books balanced in his skinny arms. She watched him stop in front of her but stare at his shoes. Up close she could see the faded yellow of a bruise on his chin and scrapes on his knees. He had been fighting or being bullied, one of the two. "Well, kid, I mean Roy, are you ready to go?" She tried to sound as upbeat as she could. She didn't want the thing bursting into tears, though he looked a bit old for that. How old was he anyway, she couldn't remember, 5 maybe 6?_

_He nodded and fell into step behind her, not even looking remotely nostalgic about leaving the place that had been his home for the last 4 months. She had read through his file, she knew he had been bounced around something like 9 different homes or orphanages in the last 17 months since his parents died. It must have been rough, she guessed but again, if she were honest, she didn't really care. They walked along the streets of Central and she felt something touch her hand, she shook it away not realizing until later that the little boy was trying to hold hands with her and probably get her to slow down. She looked back at him but he didn't try again, just hugged his books tighter and tried to keep up._

_She hopped into the free trolley car and looked back to see he was having a devil of time making it in but rather than ask for help, put his things down on the step and climbed in on his hands and knees, finally coming to join her. There weren't many people so they each had a seat though his feet didn't hit the ground. He said nothing but simply stared at her until she wanted to snap at him. There was a softer side to her though, that figured he must be confused as hell so she gave him her best winning smile and said, "I'm your aunt by the way." He nodded but immediately looked away once she met his eyes. "I'm your father's sister," she tried again and he nodded again. Ok that was stupid. She wasn't a squinty eyed bitch from Xing so she obviously wasn't related to his whore mother. "You should say something when adults are talking to you," she finally snapped at him, unnerved by his silence._

" _What should I call you?" He finally asked the same flat voice he had used earlier. Weren't kids supposed to be excited and shit?_

" _My name is Chris Mustang but everyone calls me Madame Christmas, so you can call me that too," she answered, he shook his head again and she gave up trying to talk to him once he opened one of his books. It was a large tome about the history of Amestris that would put a most people to sleep. He seemed utterly engrossed though. He stayed that way until it was time for them to exit. He simply followed here without saying a word._

_They walked from the trolley stop towards a street of bars, dance clubs, and sleazy restaurants. Even she wasn't proud enough to say it was a good place or a good place to raise a kid but so be it. Roy skipped to keep up and was panting by the time they reached the back door. She let them in and ushered him upstairs. "This is where you will live. You don't come down stairs except for school or unless I tell you you can. Do you understand?" she stood over him, staring him in the eyes. He nodded his head yes and clutched his books a bit tighter. "There is a library down the road by the school. You can go there for an hour after school but then you have to come back," she turned to leave then stopped, "and I don't want to hear you before noon." He said nothing and looked at his feet._

_She had nearly reached her room, shoving open the room that was to be his, when she heard his small voice, "why did you bring here if you clearly don't want me?"_

" _Because you have something I want and I can't have it without you in the bargain. That's the way life works, to get some silver, you have to take some shit," she repeated the old Aerugian proverb._

" _And I'm the shit and my stipend from the state is the silver?" He still looked at his feet and she was surprised at how much he had figured out but then again, he was a member of the Family that intellect was to be expected. She felt sort of bad for telling the kid that but she saw no real reason to lie to him. It was better he understood the truth of the matter from the beginning. He was a means to an end, nothing more. He had better not expect sympathy or love from her because those were two things she prided herself on not having, like any good Monsanto._

" _Go to your room," she told him and turned to her own. Goddamn it, why couldn't she have been born a man._

The scene allowed them to leave but tossed them into a stream of scenes from Roy's childhood, much the same as Edward's. Fullmetal had a good laugh at one scene where Roy had wet his bed, until he saw the way his Aunt had shaken him like a ragdoll over it. There was another day when he would have teased his CO over what a nerd he was for winning a scholastic contest, if he hadn't seen the utterly ecstatic smile on his face when Madame Christmas had attended the award's ceremony. As he watched though, a very clear pattern emerged. Roy was ignored or occasionally derided unless he did something truly extraordinary. Only then, when he created a full statistical spread for a gambling line at the age of 9, performed advanced alchemy at 15, or passed the Alchemy exam as the youngest in history and with the highest score in history was he praised. It explained A LOT about the man, as far as Edward was concerned.

Edward actually recognized their next destination for once. It was the Alchemy Headquarters at Central Command. They were looking in through one way glass on three soldiers in the waiting room. He immediately recognized Hughes and Mustang but the 3rd he didn't know. The man was an Ishvalan and dressed as a cadet the same as the others. Elrich was surprised. He had never seen an Ishvalan soldier before.

"Who's that?" He pointed.

"Heathcliff, Heathcliff Erbe," he answered, putting his hand on the glass and slightly sinking in. "He went to the Academy with Hughes and me. We were roommates our second and 2nd through 4th terms," Mustang answered looking wistful then shook his head and turned away. "He's dead now, killed in battle in Ishval."

Edward was going to say something but he felt their Target approach. He was an older man, early 40s or so and a State Alchemist. Edward had no idea who he was.

" _So what do you think Dr. Marcoh?" A tall lean man with a General rank leaned beside him. He couldn't be bothered to remember his name. Stabbler or something, he was from the Psych department. He was a pseudo scientist at best and a sadistic bastard at worst._

" _He's young. I knew conceptually he was young but he doesn't even look old enough to shave, none of them do," he answered, trying to ignore the fact the Führer was drinking tea behind him._

" _To be fair, he is half Xinese so he may technically never be old enough to shave," Dr. Stabbler smiled at him. "Regardless of his age, he's a perfect physical specimen, has the highest scores ever at the Academy, and received a perfect score on the written test. No one, not even you, Crystal, has done that before. He's an excellent choice for State Alchemist."_

" _What about his Psych eval?" Marcoh challenged, "All his professors have said the same thing, he is smart as hell but very bookish and had an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong. That tells me he lacks real life experience. Do you really want a State Alchemist, a Major, that is so naïve he'll make stupid decisions based on being overly moral? Not to mention he's an orphan, statistically, he's more prone to being emotionally unstable."_

" _We can control and shape his experiences to create a nearly perfect officer and though orphans tend to be unstable, they also are shown to be more controllable because of their subconscious desire for affection. He was raised by a single foster mother, who was in an out of jail and rehab most of his life. He had no real male influence until he was apprenticed by Master Hawkeye, who we all know was not a particularly nice person. All we have to do is pair him an older male he can look up to, and we'll have complete control over him. We can give him the 'Daddy' that all little boys want to impress and 'Daddy' can make sure he does what's best for us," Dr. Stabbler smiled like he had just won a hand of gin rummy._

" _Does it bother anyone but me that he comes from the Monsanto Crime Family? That foster mother you referred to has been in and out of jail on suspicion of being one of their Capos. How exactly did he even get into the Academy much less clearance to even take the test?" Marcoh asked, surprised someone that was a first generation Amestrian on one side and only a 3_ _rd_ _on the other would have been allowed into officer training. He must have had some friends in high places, especially considering the fact that he was related to a Crime Family. But then again, it could be the opposite and he had friends in very low places._

" _Gentleman, why don't we wait and see how the practical test plays out," the Führer suggested and they all quieted at least verbally. He stayed behind a moment longer as the other funneled out to go to the yard to watch the test. Mustang had made the rather odd request that his Practical be given outdoors. He couldn't deny the kid was bright and that he had the promise of an excellent officer but right now, all he saw was a nervous child trying to play soldier. Why was he so desperate to become an Alchemist at 20? Did he need money, want rank, want prestige, want position to help his Aegurian cronies, why not wait till 25 like everyone else? He didn't have any longer to ponder as a soldier fetched Mustang for his Practical and Marcoh had to go to the yard to observe._

_The test started like any other. Mustang demonstrated simple transmutations such as creating sculptures and raising stone. Rudimentary skills any Alchemist should know and he was flawless. The surprise didn't come until he pulled on a pair of gloves to display his unique skill. Not every State Alchemist, much less general one, had a special skill but many did. Iron Blood for example was a master at making his body a weapon, while Red Lotus was good at causing explosions. He wondered what this handsome boy would do. Nothing he had been pondering had prepared him for the seeing the kid make as slight movement with his fingers, then the courtyard light up in flames. When they died down, the targets were barely even ash and some of the cobble stones had been scorched to the point of cracking. He wracked his brain trying to figure out how Mustang had done it. It had be gaseous transmutation, which was damned hard and required amazing amounts of concentration and skill to accomplish. Unlike normal transmutation of solid objects, gasses were always moving and there was dead space between the molecules where he would have had to jump, basically transmuting at a distance. Frankly it shouldn't be possible._

_He ignored the kid as he bowed and was dismissed. The panel retired to deliberate and Marcoh continued to mull over Mustang. "I've never," the Silver Alchemist started, "I don't even understand how he did it, but goddamn that was impressive."_

" _I agree, impressive but until we understand the mechanism, not to be trusted," he threw his own opinion in. Someone that young with that type of power shouldn't be at the disposal of this government. He was too easy to influence, too green to know what to do with that much strength._

" _What's to understand, he performed a new type of Alchemy?" Stabbler questioned._

_He took a deep breath and tried to find a way to give voice to his disquiet. "Alchemy is an ancient art. We'll see knew spins on it but it's rare to see anything completely new. This fire alchemy, or whatever it is, is new and therefore needs to be studied before we allow it in the military program. We need to understand how he is doing it. Gaseous Alchemy is so uncommon we need more information before we move forward with him. How about we let him apprentice with someone for a few years then reevaluate?" Silver seemed to agree with him but he suspected for different reasons. He could see in the sly man's eyes he wanted to take over the lad's training so he could garner the secrets._

" _He seems competent enough to me," Stabbler retorted. "If he can perform Alchemy that two other State Alchemists are stunned by, then he seems like he's more than passed the test."_

" _Do you really want a 20 year old with that type of power to have a Major's rank and all the perks that go along with being a State Alchemist?" Marcoh questioned._

" _Do you really want a 20 year old with that type of power to not be under Military control?" the Führer calmly questioned. "Dr. Marcoh, Major Comanche, I appreciate your significant concerns but I think I like this Mustang fellow, I like him quite a bit and I think we should allow him entrance to your most exclusive club, even at the age of 20." The man rose, graceful well beyond his what would expect of a man in his 60s and turned as he reached the door, "oh and I think we should call him Flame, yes the Flame Alchemist sounds suitably terrifying." Marcoh slumped as their leader left. It didn't take a genius, which he was, to figure out the Führer's motive. The Eastern sector's problems were only heating up more and more, which was why they removed the age requirements for the State Alchemy test. The Führer had been hoping to find a jewel like Mustang among the too old and too young men that had been tested lately. This Alchemist's fire would burn through the East and most likely consume what was obviously an incredibly smart kid._

" _Silver, if you'll have the papers finished, I'll let Cadet Mustang know he passed," Marcoh offered and served himself some tea as he waited for the official documents. The pocket watch would take longer. Each one was custom made to order so they couldn't simply be taken off a self. It didn't take long for the Führer to sign the order and Marcoh stood outside of the waiting room. He listened in for a moment, wondering if he could discern what would drive this fool to what his state license so soon. He remembered when he was 20 he was still studying medicine and hadn't even really considered Alchemy yet. He had spent more time chasing nurses than trying to serve his country._

" _I failed, I know I failed," he heard Mustang lament._

" _I'm sure you didn't," another man with a slight accent said. "You have never failed a test in your life. I'm fairly certain that your tombstone is going to read, 'Roy Mustang, Never failed at anything'."_

" _Heathcliff's right, Roy, my manic, little over achiever; you saw your marks on the written a 200 out of 200. Unless you pissed yourself, had a seizure, and blew up Central in that order during your practical; they would be fools not to take you." Another man was clearly joking. Little did he know they had had applicants do all three of those over the last few months._

" _Maybe I over did. What if they don't trust my Flame Alchemy because they haven't seen it before? What if they think it's too destructive? What if they think I'm too young or too green? What if?"_

" _Stop!" both of the other men nearly shouted at him and he chose to knock._

_The door was opened for him and all three cadets snapped to a salute. "At ease," he waved at them and stood in front of Mustang. Up close he looked even younger except for his eyes, they seemed old, but oddly still hopeful. "Cadet Mustang, I hereby congratulate you on behalf of the State Alchemy testing board for achieving your State Alchemist Certification. You're being granted the immediate rank of Major with all dues and respect associated with said rank. From this day forward, you will be known officially as the Flame Alchemist." He handed the stunned newly minted major his official documents in front of his beaming friends and held his hand out. "Welcome aboard, son. I'm sure we are going to keep you busy."_

" _Thank you, sir," Mustang tried to pull back on a professional face but couldn't stop smiling._

" _Dr. Maroch, I'm the Crystal Alchemist, but most everyone calls me Dr. Marcoh. I guess I'll be seeing you around, Flame." For all his misgivings, he couldn't help but be a little happy for the kid. He had read the file, he was an orphan that had been in and out of foster homes, then finally apprenticed at a very young age to Hawkeye, who died not even 6 months ago. Even after all that though, he could see that Mustang was still a pretty optimistic person and he wondered how long it would last given what he would be forced to do in the near future. He walked away from the celebrating friends and started mentally taking bets how long it would be before Flame joined the Red Lotus on the Eastern front._

They were released, and the Colonel seemed to be watching himself celebrate with Hughes and Erbe. It was strange to see Mustang so young and happy. He seemed like a different person, a less burdened man than he was now. He lacked the edge that Edward associated with him, that reflexive snap at anyone that challenged him, though with Mustang it was more of a vitriolic insult delivered in a drawling voice. In a way it was so much more annoying than actually being yelled at. Without the mammoth defensive walls, Edward was used to, he wondered if he could have been friends with this young man in a way he could never be, Roy would never let him be, with the elder.

The wistful expression finally left Roy's face to be replaced by a sardonic smile. "You know, I never understood why Marcoh kept calling me green and stupid back then, not until I met you."

"Who are you calling stupid?" Edward challenged, forgetting all concept of being friends with the asshole.

"You, you're 15, all 15 year olds are stupid. I know I was."

"You might have been an idiot but I'm not," Edward defended himself and tried to walk faster than Roy. It didn't work though. Mustang had a good 8 inches of leg on him.

"Ok, not stupid but green. If I knew then the things that I know now, I would never have signed up to be a State Alchemist and if I did, never would have let them see Flame Alchemy," he answered looking down again. There was an odd quality to his voice, like he was trying hard not to say something. Ed thought about the difference between his experiences and Mustang's. The Colonel was extremely, obsessively so, careful about whom Ed and Al came into contact with at Central. He always thought it was because their CO was trying to keep control of them, but maybe there was more. Maybe Mustang was trying to protect them from people like Stabbler that so casually talked about ways to use someone's background to control them. The thought made him uncomfortable, he didn't like thinking well about the Bastard Colonel.

They walked away after a moment, a thoughtful look on Roy's face. "Hey, Colonel?" Ed barged into what were clearly private thoughts. "How do you do it? I've seen your array, I understand the principle but the few times I've tried flame alchemy, I've never been able to get the flame to go more than a few feet, nothing like the hundreds of yards you send yours."

"You want to know the secrets of Flame Alchemy?" He asked, giving a conspirator's smile. Ed eagerly nodded. It bugged the holy living shit out of him that Mustang could do something he couldn't. He just couldn't get past making the flame jump over dead space between oxygen atoms. He couldn't' figure out how that Bastard Colonel managed to project his alchemy without touching what he was transmuting. It technically shouldn't be possible. And, though he hated to admit it, he just wasn't as good at gaseous transmutation as he should be or as the Colonel. "Not a chance, short stuff," he tweaked Fullmetal in the nose and walked away chuckling. There was that hated reflexive snap, and Edward snapped right back, ranting like a mad man as he followed.

The next place they ended up was a tent, with lamps hanging from the ceiling. They were gas, not electric and cast a strange yellowish haze on everything. There were wounded spread across every available surface, many screaming as limbs were removed or surgery was performed without time for anesthetic. Off to the side, away from the rows of men in blue, was a curtained area with children. Each of them dark skinned, pale haired, and with various limbs bandaged. Edward could begin to feel the emotions of whomever they were tied to for this scene and knew all of a sudden that none of them would survive. Their burns or infection would claim them and at best all that could be done was keep them comfortable.

"Where are we this time?" Edward questioned his companion, who walked away as fast as possible without falling into a run. "Hey, wait, this isn't my memory so it must be yours," he called even as the man reappeared on the side they had just entered from.

"Damn it," he cursed and for the first time looked ruffled with the experience rather than bored or slightly amused.

"Where are we?" Ed pressed again, moving out of the way as orderlies started to bring in more and more wounded though there didn't seem to be space.

"Ishval," he whispered, eyes now trained on the children only visible through a gap in the curtain. "We're in Ishval during the war."

"Are you sure?"

"I recognize my work," Roy mumbled and Edward felt sick.

They both looked up, tied to what their "Target" person was doing. Ed gasped when he saw them and watched:

_She worked as quickly as she could to assess the condition of the soldiers in front of her. Some were too far gone, while others were not far gone enough for immediate help. In a way those were the ones she felt the worst about, wounded but left to flounder in pain until they became so bad off they required immediate help or until someone had time. Sometimes she wondered why they stayed, why did they bother trying to bring humanity and peace to this horrible place but then she remembered the children, who would be left to die like vermin. Even the actual canines that worked for the military were treated better than Ishvalan children._

_She looked up as someone came crashing through the tent flaps, yelling for a doctor. The man was tall, with glasses and a square chin. He had blood all over his uniform and looked frantic. "Doctor, my friend needs you, now!" he shouted at her, almost yanking her away from her patient, whose guts were no longer inside his body._

" _Bring your friend in here, and I'll assess where he falls," she scolded the young Captain. She was sure that to him his buddy was more important than all else but everyone felt that way._

" _You need to come now!" he nearly shouted and actually grabbed her arm, "you don't understand."_

" _No, Captain, you don't understand. There are wounded people here and they all need help!" she rose to her full height and used every ounce of balls she had learned from Pinako to get this overzealous kid to back down._

" _I see that there are wounded, but you need to come help my friend, he's been shot and trust me, he's worth 1000 of these men," he physically dragged her back towards the door, where two men were carrying in an officer. He was a major, by his insignia, and young to look at. He had been shot in the leg, and was shaking and sweating, lips almost blue and his spat stained red. He was hurt, badly but not worse than the man she was working on. "You will help Flame, right now," the captain warned, hand moving to his gun. The threat was forgotten though, as soon as she realized what he had said. The man on her table was the Flame Alchemist. She had never seen him before, only heard stories of his sheer destructive power and seen the fall out of his attacks. Five of them were in fact waiting for death behind a curtain in the corner. She hadn't been sure what she expected, but a shocky kid that didn't look older than early 20s was not it. As an Amestrian she thought him a hero, as a humanitarian she thought him a scourge._

_She watched several of her Ishvalan assistants, terrified by the sight of him, back away as if he were going to attack them right there. Of all the State Alchemists he was the most feared by the Ishvalans. Most wouldn't even say his name, calling him "Ntwadumela" or "he who greets with fire,*"after one of their mythological demons. Not even the cruel Red Lotus inspired such dread as the mere mention of this man. It was said you could hide from Red Lotus, or survive his attacks if you were very lucky but not Flame as he turned the very air you breathed into fire. Many thought him a devil birthed from hell itself and that he had a forked tongue and a tail. He didn't though, he was just a man. He was just a man that killed more people than dysentery. She wondered if it wouldn't be better for the entire world to let him die._

_Before she could sort out her complex feelings, a Colonel, Basque Gran, if she was correct, nearly ran in. "Hughes, report!" He commanded._

" _Sir, Roy, Flame, was shot by a sniper as we were pulling out of the 9_ _th_ _district. We put a field dressing then a tourniquet on him and got him here as fast as we could but there's so much blood," Hughes, rambled, looking shaken. Not that she could blame him, no one would want to be the guy that let Flame get killed._

_Gran took another step closer and placed his large hand on Hughes's shoulder. "It's alright, son. You did the right thing, you got him back to help," he soothed, kinder than she would have given him credit for._

" _We called Knox, he's on his way here," Hughes filled in, as she counted her patient's pulse. It was thready, almost weak. He had clearly lost a lot of blood. A part of her still wondered, if it wouldn't be better to let the gunshot finish its job. How many children like her own daughter would live if this one man died? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. It was exhaustion making her think that way. All lives were precious, even those of mass murders._

" _Good," the colonel said, then turned to one of Mustang's men, who stood there looking lost. "You, go get Dr. Marcoh, the Crystal Alchemist, immediately. Tell him to bring it and it's an order," he barked and the man saluted then scurried out of the tent. Who the hell was Marcoh? She had never even heard of the Crystal Alchemist before._

" _What the hell is so bloody important that you have to drag me to the front, Hughes?" a tired looking man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth growled. He carried a satchel and wore the Army insignia of a doctor._

" _Dr. Knox," Gran seemed a bit unsure how to handle the surly addition to their group, as they appeared to be of the same rank. Good, she didn't want another doctor in her tent anyway. "Flame was wounded," he explained._

" _So he was," the man smirked and set his things down, nearly shoving her out of the way to get to the alcohol to clean his hands. "Saline," he barked at her as if she were a nurse._

" _Listen I don't know who you are but this is my surgery," she started but he cut her off._

" _And a lovely shit hole it is too, but right now we need to save the illustrious Flame Alchemist's life or our Fuhrer is going to be very unhappy that his favorite living weapon is no longer living," he explained and she handed him a bottle of sterile saline with a scowl. "What are his stats?"_

" _Pulse 124, thready and weak," she finally answered, as he pushed on the patient's forehead, lips, and figure nails to gauge how long they took to reprofuse; too long, for her liking, frankly and obviously his as well, from his expression._

" _Mustang," he called to the man, "answer me."_

" _Dr Knox," he stuttered through teeth that were chattering, even though it was still in the 70s and the cold of the night hadn't set in yet. He was in deep hypovolemic shock. She was afraid the bullet might have clipped the artery and nothing short of the tourniquet was keeping him alive. "Where's Hughes?" he asked, glassy eyes darting around. He sounded anxious and unfocused._

" _I'm right here, Roy. Don't worry, Knox and this lady will fix you right up," the original captain smiled at him, smearing blood across his forehead and he smoothed the man's spikey hair down, only for it to spring back. She wondered briefly if he was more than the Alchemist's babysitter._

" _Good, you weren't hit?" he mumbled, clumsily running his ungloved hand across his lips and Hughes blinked back tears, confirming her suspicion that they were actually friends._

" _No, you got him before he could hit anyone else. You saved us," he sniffled then looked at them. "He's asked me that same question four or five times."_

" _It's not his fault, he only has about 2/3rds of his normal blood volume getting to his brain. He's bound to be acting like a dumb, blond," Dr. Knock explained as she finally got a much needed IV attached with an even deeper scowl. Blondes were not dumb. If they didn't get this guy's blood pressure up soon, he wasn't going to make it._

_Dr. Knox managed to work the bloodied gauze from the wound and they could both see it was bad, very bad. Her suspicions were correct and the artery had been hit along with the bone. Knox peeled the skin back and poked at the shards of bone, eliciting a scream from Mustang. "On a scale of 1-10, that pain rates an 11, you asshole", he panted, looking almost grey but more alert._

" _Stop being so sarcastic, kid," Knox scolded and signaled her to dose him with morphine. "It's time for misbehaving children to go beddy bye," he baby talked to the major as if they were friends. It took less than 4 seconds for the Alchemist to be rendered unconscious and they began truly examining the wound. The captain named Hughes, pulled a chair up to sit at his friend's head, one hand on his shoulder._

" _How is he, Dr. Knox? Will he be alright?" The colonel finally spoke again._

" _He'll live, but he'll lose the leg. The bones shattered, arteries shredded, and the muscles look like ground meat. He'll have to be fitted for automail," he explained and Hughes looked sick._

" _How long will that take?" A general entered, short and stout with a cigar hanging from his mouth. All the men except Knox, whose hands were occupied in Mustang's leg, saluted._

" _At least 6 months, probably twelve, General Fessler, sir," Knox answered. She thought given the injury that it was an optimistic thought. She would say 18 months minimum for full functionality._

" _That isn't acceptable, we need him back on the front lines with in the week," the man blew smoke at them._

" _I'll just stuff my hand up my ass and pull out a medical miracle then," Knox groused. "The kid's toast, he's lucky to be alive. He's earned a vacation from this shit until he can walk and that won't be for a while," Knox insisted._

" _Lucky for you we have a miracle," he looked at the door as another doctor walked in, this one also had an Alchemists pocket watch. He stood with a slouched, defeated expression. "Dr. Marcoh, I'm glad you made it so quickly, we have need of your services."_

" _What is it, General Fessler? All the request said was to come here," he clutched his satchel to his chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world._

" _Flame has been injured and we can't afford for him to leave the front. Fix him." The General commanded, sounding as if he was asking a mechanic to fix a flat tire rather than a doctor to help a patient._

_Dr. Marcoh examined the wounded Alchemist and backed away without touching him. "His leg needs to come off," he agreed with their assessment, which meant that they didn't need 3 doctors here for one leg._

_Fessler glared at Marcoh through his glasses and pulled a long breath through his nose, "everyone except Marcoh and the doctors, leave, NOW!"_

" _I have an entire ward full of wounded people here," she complained, "we can't just leave." Fessler motioned a man he had brought with him that drew his gun and nearly shot one of the wounded soldiers. "Wait," she screamed, "backroom. There is a private area back there. We can take him that way." She put herself in front of the solider with the gun, praying for all she was worth that he wouldn't pull the trigger._

" _Fine, move him," Fessler commanded and Hughes and Knox picked up the cot he was on and carried him into what was effectively her and her husband's bedroom. "Now, everyone not a doctor, leave." Hughes looked mutinous but Gran steered him away. He didn't go far though, just on the other side of the flap. "Marcoh, if you please."_

" _Sir, I haven't tested it on an injury this bad, just burns and they all ended up dying anyway. We don't know the long term efficacy or if it is even possible to heal something like this," the Alchemist tried, clearly uncomfortable with what was being asked. She wished she understood the private glances going between himself and Knox._

" _Now is a good time to try. If it fails then cut his leg off and use it to heal him and get his automail functioning in a week. Just keep him alive. We can't afford to lose Flame's skill." She greatly disliked the fact that this general talked about his soldier like an object or a weapon. Yes, Mustang had done horrible, unforgivable things but it was hard to concentrate on that, when he looked just like any other wounded soldier. His eyes dark and ringed, but face finally lax in sleep, he looked like a kid._

" _Yes, sir," Marcoh answered and reached into his satchel to remove a wooden box. She wondered what type of instruments he carried in there and how he kept them clean, but all that was inside was a vile of red liquid. Was it some sort of new medicine? "Knox, help me cut his pant leg. I'll need multiple and larger arrays then what I normally use." Knox grabbed scissors and began to cut open the prone soldier's pants, exposing his pale leg. The wound was even more grizzly fully uncovered. Bits of bone were pushed through the skin and muscle, from the force of the gunshot, and blood pooled, dark and thick, in the spaces between muscle fibers. They needed to remove it and clean it automail wouldn't matter if he died of infection._

_Once the leg was uncovered, Marcoh took out a dark wax pencil and started to draw arrays on Mustang's leg, above and below the wound. All the while, Flame remained in his drug induced sleep. He then took one of her stainless steel scalpels and rested it against the broken bone, clutching the vile in his teeth and activated the arrays. She had never really been close to someone performing powerful Alchemy before, just the Elrich kids playing around. She felt the hair on the back of her neck standing and the air felt heavy, like before a storm. The entire room felt charged with electricity and the atmosphere felt dense._

_At first nothing happened, but then, the exposed bone and scalpel started to dissolve and ooze like liquid, only to reharden into a gleaming femur. The arteries thrashed and snapped back together and Roy Mustang snapped awake, screaming bloody murder. She was surprised since Knox had given him enough morphine to take down a horse but apparently the pain woke him. He thrashed and wailed, trying to get away from them, but she, Marcoh, and Knox held him down. He raised his hand, sheathed in a white glove in the air and Knox launched himself towards the upraised hand. "His gloves, get his damn gloves off!" Marcoh looked as confused as her until they both noticed the array on the back of them. She didn't understand the array but she clearly understood that the Flame Alchemist had been about to attack._

" _Knox?" The man's eyes were wild and fearful, glazed from drugs and blood loss._

" _Yeah, kid, I'm right here," the gruff doctor answered, kneeling beside Mustang's head and tucking the glove in his pocket but only after wrapping it in a handkerchief as if it were poison or something._

" _What's happening to my leg, hurts," he stammered through clenched teeth._

" _Experiment, but not mine," he explained and smiled, "so on a scale of 1 to 10, how's the pain?"_

" _A thirteen," Mustang answered, tears running down his cheeks and his body tense as a board._

" _Better or worse than 1500 degrees?" he asked and she and Fessler looked at him like he was talking nonsense but Marcoh looked sick. Flame seemed to understand and looked as grim as one could in his situation. "Maybe I should give you more morphine, then I'll seem funnier."_

" _What's the experiment?" Mustang asked, trying to see his leg but turning deathly pail as he saw his muscles and skin reforming in front of his eyes._

" _You would have to ask Marcoh and you know Crystal is tight lipped about his research," Knox responded and forced the patient to lie flat and not look at the gruesome sight of his leg knitting itself back together._

" _Ok, I think I'm going to pass out."_

" _I wouldn't be surprised in the least, kid." Knox hadn't eve stopped talking before Mustang's eyes rolled up in his head and he went slack in bed._

" _Is he still alive?" Fessler asked, eyes shining with glee at what he had just seen. She, herself, was ecstatic at the possibilities. If alchemy could force damaged tissue back together, think of the other things it could do._

" _He's alive, his vitals are better too. I think he just passed out from pain," Knox answered, as he wound his stethoscope up. "Next time, put the patient completely under, morphine and ether," he suggested and Marcoh just packed his things._

" _What the hell just happened?" she blurted out, tired of being left in the dark in her own bedroom and her own clinic. "He comes in with one of the worst leg wounds I've seen and you do some Alchemy and now his leg is fine. How is that even possible?" She demanded. She wasn't in the military and therefore had no reason to be deferential to these men._

" _Forget you saw this, in fact, forget you met any of us," Fessler cautioned._

" _But." Fessler drew his pistol and pointed it at her head but Marcoh came between them._

" _No but, Dr. Rockbell," Marcoh gave her a meaningful look. "Please just forget you ever even heard of the Flame Alchemist," he tried then turned to Fessler, "if all goes well, he should be able to return to the front lines the day after tomorrow. He'll need some time to get his blood volume up and sleep off the morphine."_

" _Bother, we'll send Kimblee I guess," Fessler turned and marched out, ignoring everyone around him except Gran, who he motioned to him like a dog._

_She pulled a blanket over Mustang to ward off the deepening chill and wished Urey was around and not at the other clinic. She then stepped out and found her nurses had mostly taken care of the wounded so she snuck out of the back of the tent, to find Hughes smoking a cigarette and looking guilty. You were not supposed to smoke around the wounded. "You have an extra?" she asked him with a smile and he returned it along with a fresh cigarette. "Don't tell my husband when he gets back."_

" _Deal, don't tell Mustang," he answered and took a drag. "How is he doing? I heard him screaming."_

" _Surprisingly well actually. Dr. Marcoh managed to save his leg."_

" _I figured," he exhaled and flicked ash to the side._

" _How?"_

" _It takes more than 7 minutes to cleanly amputate a limb, Knox and Marcoh weren't covered in blood, and why bring the Crystal Alchemist all the way here, if not for him to perform Alchemy? Besides, I've been best friends with one of the most powerful Alchemist in Amestris since we were 18, I recognize that tingly feeling," he ticked off his logic with his fingers._

" _I've never been around one that powerful before, it was sort of weird," she admitted._

" _It's from excess atomic particles building up in the air usually electrons, or so Roy explained to me. Something about when some Alchemy is performed it splits electrons off of atoms to create new compounds and there is always some left over. They rub together and cause static electricity, which is why it raises the hair on the back of your neck. It's also what causes that blue crackle. His is the worst about it. I've seen him generate so much lightening he's cracked windows and caused storms."_

" _I see," it was interesting but not really important. "You can go sit with him, if you want," she offered._

" _I'll probably take you up on that." She turned to leave, smoke finished. "He isn't a monster," Hughes stopped her. "I know that's what you're thinking, I could see it in your face when you heard who he was but he isn't a terrible person. He's no different than any other soldier following orders and killing. He's just better at it." She thought on that for a moment._

" _How can you be friends with the Flame Alchemist, knowing that he kills women and children?"_

" _Because I'm friends with Roy and have been long before he became Flame and because I could ask him the exact same question in reverse. My hands are no cleaner than his; mine just have blood while his have soot." He pushed past her and sank down into a chair beside his sleeping friend. "I won't be able to stay much longer, is it alright if I send a friend to sit with him? He shouldn't wake up alone."_

" _That's fine," she felt a wave of sympathy for this man, Hughes, who seemed equal parts exhausted and worried. But she could tell it wasn't just tonight, she suspected there was more to it but it wasn't her place to ask. She was too tired for it anyway and simply collapsed in her bunk and went to sleep. She woke a few hours later to find a plan looking blonde in soldier blues sitting beside Mustang. The woman startled when she sat up as if she were doing something wrong. "You must be the friend Hughes mentioned," she yawned._

" _Not exactly, ma'am. Captain Hughes asked that I bring the friend with me," she explained and Sara rose to see a dog curled up on the cot with Mustang. It was thin, extremely so and gunmetal grey on top with a white chest and mask. Its ears, chest, feet, and tail were fringed and it lie there, like a queen taking warmth from a brazier. "I know dogs aren't allowed in the surgery but we were hoping that since he wasn't with the rest of the patients it would be ok," the woman explained as she looked down at Mustang with eyes so full of devotion it was hard to see them. She wondered if these two were a thing. She doubted it, Mustang was famous and even if he was a killer, rather handsome in a baby faced sort of way. This woman was rather dull looking and had what was referred to in the country as 'breeder hips.' She properly wasn't glitzy enough for someone like Flame._

" _Normally I would say no but at this point he's broken every rule we have so why not another one. What's its name?" she asked as she approached the dog, who gave her a disdainful sniff and then proceeded to completely ignore her._

" _Weasel, her name is Weasel. Roy, I mean Major Mustang, found her about a year ago when she was only 3 weeks old. He's taken care of her ever since but refuses to admit she's his dog," she smiled and it was returned in a way that only two women could, while lamenting about foolish men. The man in question continued to sleep off the massive dose of morphine he had been given, completely oblivious to the two women over him._

" _You can stay for a while, if you would like," she paused hoping the soldier would fill in her name._

" _Hawkeye, I'm Riza Hawkeye, and I shouldn't. He needs his rest and I have to get back to my bird's nest." As if not of her own accord, Riza Hawkeye reached out and ran her fingers through Mustang's hair. "Maes said," he whispered, sounding very shy then cleared her throat and continued. "Captain Hughes said he was badly wounded. How long before he can go back to the front?"_

_She smiled at the younger woman, not being fooled for one moment by the strictly military act. Hawkeye was worried for someone that was clearly a friend and maybe more. She may not like what Flame did but she couldn't dislike the people that cared about him. "He was wounded but he'll be just fine. In fact, he should be cleared for duty tomorrow, the day after at the latest," she reassured and was surprised that Riza looked almost saddened by that. "What's wrong, that's good news for everyone but the Ishvalans," she joked._

" _Such a short amount of time for him to rest. He needs a little longer before they send him back out there," she whispered and she understood completely. Riza was worried that Mustang wouldn't get more time away from the war, away from killing. She wondered what type of man he must be to inspire such love and loyalty from people, even the surly Dr. Knox seemed to have a soft spot for him. "I need to go, thank you for taking care of him and for letting Weasel stay. She's been whining for the last few hours because he didn't come back," she gave a small smile and turned to leave, eyes lingering for a moment on the sleeping man._

_As it turned out, the dog was of no trouble because she didn't leave Mustang's side for the next few hours, even when morning came and she left for her rounds. Not even when she escorted Dr. Marcoh back to check on his patient. Mustang hadn't woken yet, which might be worrying, if she hadn't seen the dark circles under his eyes when he came in. But when Dr. Marcoh sat down and touched his wrist, he stirred groggily._

" _Hello, Flame, how are you feeling?" Marcoh asked._

" _Crystal what are you doing here?" he mumbled and blew dog hair out of his face. She sat at her desk pretending to work but really watching them. She wanted to take the measure of this man so loved and fears._

" _I came to see how you were doing, of course," the doctor gave him a forced smile then asked, "may I pet your dog?"_

" _Sure but she's not my dog," Mustang answered, still not sitting up._

_She watched the elegant hound gracefully lift her long nose to sniff at Marcoh, then turn her head aside to rest it against Mustang's shoulder. Marcoh chuckled a soft laugh. "She seems to think she's your dog. You know the Ishvalan's call them 'Al-hurr, the noble one.' They are the only dog allowed inside of homes and it's said that they were a gift from Ishaval himself. They generally don't let outsiders having them. ."_

" _Like I said, she's not my dog, she just sleeps in bed with me, eats my food, and follows me around," Flame insisted, even as he lovingly pet her silky ear and her eyes squinted up in a trance of pure doggy ecstasy. Marcoh just smiled at that, a tired smile. "So how long before I go back to the front?" Mustang asked his voice very flat._

" _Tomorrow, you'll head out tomorrow. There has been a big push in the 7_ _th_ _district and Fessler is anxious for you to go push back," Marcoh explained, staring at his hands. Mustang didn't do much other than stroke his dog._

" _How did you do it?" Flame finally asked. "My memories of what happened are a little hazy after getting shot but I'm not a fool. I should have a giant hole in my leg, if I should even still have one. What did you do to heal it?" She held her breath hoping for an explanation that made sense._

" _I'll tell you what, Mustang, you tell me how you get past the dead space between molecules to perform Flame Alchemy and I'll tell you how I did it." Mustang remained silent on the subject._

" _Why did you? Why didn't you just," the younger man trailed of._

" _Let you die?" Marcoh filled in. "I thought about it, I'm sure even the pretty doctor over there thought about letting you bleed to death but we're soldiers and we follow orders and besides, the fact that you asked me that tells me I made the right decision. After all, you can't atone for the things you've done, if you're dead."_

" _But aren't there some things that are so horrible they can never be forgiven? It's Equivalent Exchange. In order to take something, you must give something of equal value and I've taken more than anyone could ever possibly give back." She listened to the defeat in Mustang's voice and began to realize why others might be loyal to him. A man so famous and powerful usually wouldn't admit such weakness. That vulnerability made him seem human, trustworthy, and caring._

" _I'll give you the answer to that, once I figure it out, kid," Marcoh rose and handed Flame a pair of uniform trousers and his glove. "Until then, go get some food and sleep because you're heading out to District 7 at 0600 tomorrow."_

" _Thank you, Crystal," Mustang said to Marcoh's back._

" _Don't thank me. I've been to Knox's lab, I've seen what you leave behind. Maybe I felt like you needed to live with what you had done a little bit longer," the doctor said as he walked out and she saw Mustang burry his nose in Weasel's fur and take a shuddering breath. It was only one, one moment of weakness before he stood and dressed, nodding a thank you to her as he left, the dog that didn't belong to him falling into a perfect heel at his left side._

The scene began to dissolve and they walked on with thoughts of what might have happened in Knox's lab. Roy was quiet and Edward was stunned. "Why didn't you tell me you knew Winrey's mother?"

"That was Winrey's mother?" Mustang asked, hands in his pockets and eyes straight ahead.

"Yes, it was. They look a lot alike you know and they were in Ishval. It's where they were killed," Edward defended his view that Roy was a doink for not knowing who she was.

"Yeah, I guess they look a little bit alike but to be fair, I was either semi-conscious from blood loss, doped up, or asleep pretty much the entire time I was around her," Mustang defended himself just as eagerly.

"I guess," Edward conceded and they walked along in silence for a while, each waiting for what would come next. He broke the silence, something about the scene bothering him. "I'm surprised you took care of a dog," he mused. He had seen Weasel a few times around Eastern Command but frankly hadn't paid much attention to her. She would occasionally sit beside Hawkeye if Mustang wasn't around but generally speaking she wanted nothing to do with anyone that wasn't the Colonel. Not to mention she was so skinny and weird looking he always thought she looked like a pair of scissors with floppy ears. Most of the time, he didn't even know she was there because she slept under his desk. It took him 2 years to realize that was why Mustang sat with his feet propped up on the corner of his desk so much, because his dog was taking up where his legs should go.

"Why does that surprise you? I love dogs."

"I don't know, you just strike me more as a cat person, you know all slinky and lazy. Dogs are trust worthy and loyal not like cats."

"Something tells me I should be offended by that statement but I'm too tired to puzzle it out," Roy answered. "But to answer your question, I like cats well enough, I just couldn't have one with Weasel. She chased them."

"Do you still have her?" Edward asked, realizing he hadn't seen her around in a while.

"No, she died 4 months ago of distemper. I was a wreck for a week after that. I'm still a wreck about it," he sounded maudlin bordering on despondent. It rankled. This asshole had watched his parents be killed and basically explained away why he wasn't upset but sounded like he was going to burst into tears talking about a dog. Why had he never noticed before that Mustang was clearly not all there?

"You can watch your parents die and be fine but you choke up over a stupid dog?" Ed accused.

"Don't judge me," Roy snarked, "and never underestimate the power of unconditional love."

"Whatever, I still think you're a cold hearted bastard." The mist around them began to resolve itself and it was night and if Edward had to guess he would say Ishval again. The Colonel's shoulders seemed to slump at the sight. Then he looked around and they felt their Target person approach. He couldn't make out who it was, not at first. There were two people coming, both dressed in soldier blues and light coats. One was taller and the other smaller, perhaps a man and woman. The woman was in the lead, almost dragging the man behind her. It took a moment to realize that it was Mustang and Hawkeye. He turned to his CO and saw a strange smirk on the man's face. "What?"

"You probably should sit this one out or close your eyes or something. You don't want to see this," he explained.

"Why?" but before he could get an answer, he was swept away by Hawkeye's thoughts and feelings.

_She tried to stop herself from shaking but it was a near thing. Her sniper training was the only thing that prevented her from trembling like a new born colt. Odd that she had ice water in her veins when she took life, but face to face with Roy she felt like running. She hushed his questioning and led him into an abandoned building on the outskirts of the safe zone, taking the stairs two at a time to the top floor. He kept pace behind her easily. Ishvalans were, on a whole, shorter than Amestrians and the steps were spaced too close for it to be comfortable to take them one at a time. She wondered why she was thinking about such things and knew it was to distract her from the potentially monumental mistake she was about to make._

_Once they were on the top floor, a favorite haunt for snipers, she took a deep breath and turned to him. He gave her a half smile, patiently waiting for her to open up about whatever she wanted to talk about. She had tricked him really, had Hughes say she needed to talk to him so that he would leave the camp with her. She felt bad about the lie but knew he would forgive her, he always did when she did something wrong. He backed up a few paces and leaned against one of the walls that was still standing, his eyes leaving her to examine the room they were in. It was nothing special, just one of the many burned out building in Ishval. The only good point was that the room had been empty, when Flame at attacked it so there were no grease stains on the floor or walls and the rancid cooked pork smell had aired out quickly._

_As soon as his eyes were full averted, she sprang at him, pinning him against the wall as she pressed her lips against his. Her mind was swirling with fear and ecstasy. She was finally kissing Roy Mustang. Nine years of everything from adolescent fantasies, to teenage dreams, to a woman's desire had led her to his crazy, stupid act. He was stiff under her becoming more so as she ran her hand down the front of his pants. He pushed her and her fondling hand away quickly, nearly breaking her heart as he had done so many times in the past by not noticing her._

" _Riza, what the hell are you doing?" he ask, sounding breathless._

" _I would think someone as smart as you could figure that out," she teased as she tried to kiss him again. He put his hand up, stopping her. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She was fool and utter fool. What would someone like Roy want with her? She was nothing more than a fat, farm girl that he knew growing up._

" _Ok, I think I can figure out what you want but why?" he asked her, trying to catch her eyes. She wouldn't look him in the eyes, she couldn't because if she saw how much he didn't want this, she might just throw herself out of the window._

_But in for a penny, in for pound, "it's an itch we both have so we might as well scratch it," she teased, rubbing herself against him. He smelled so good. How could someone that spent all day in the heat still smell so fucking good, like apple wood smoke, ginger and heaven. A slight breeze blew through, ruffling his hair. She wanted to lick it back into place like a cat. But she couldn't he did actually push her away this time and head for the stairs._

" _If that's all you want, go find someone else," he told her his voice sounding overly controlled. Shit now he thought she was a whore. She wasn't a virgin, he knew that, in fact he had beat the shit out of the loser she had given her virginity to because he had treated her badly afterwards. But she certainly was not a whore. She had only had 3 lovers in her entire life._

_She grabbed at his hand before he could reach the stairs and nearly yelled, "wait, please, Roy, just wait." He stopped but didn't turn around to look at her. She gave up and flopped onto the floor, feeling tears spring to eyes but refusing to let them fall. She had ruined it, ruined everything. He hated her and was probably insulted a heifer like her had ever thought they had a chance with him._

" _Why are you doing this?" He asked again in a small voice and she came undone. She couldn't keep up the façade of a sexy, sophisticated woman anymore. Not with Roy, he knew her too well._

" _Because we could die," she finally blurted out. "Either one of us, any day, a stray bullet, an explosion, a truck wrecking. That's what war is, the uncertainty of life and if I die tomorrow I don't want to die with regrets hanging over me," he finally turned around and looked at her, sinking down to sit beside her. "I don't want to die without doing the one thing I've always wanted to do. I don't want to die before I get to know what it is like to have you," she finally confessed, waiting for him to reject her, ignore her as not good enough. She wasn't smart, beautiful, or special, that's why her father never seemed to care for her. Why should Roy, other than loyalty to his teacher but if that was all she had, just this once she would take advantage of it. She reached over and touched his face, leaning in to kiss him again. He was more compliant this time but didn't really return the kiss. She broke it off, defeated by his indifference._

" _Are you sure about this?" he finally asked her, touching her face with his gloved hand. The ignition cloth was rough and smelled like matches. She nodded her head yes. A thousand times, yes she was sure. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against her and whispered, "just promise me you won't regret it. I couldn't stand it, if you hated me."_

" _I promise, I could never hate you," she whispered back and peppered kisses across his lips and cheeks No she would and could never hate him, she loved him, loved everything about him from his wild hair to his idealistic heart. No, if their relationship was damaged, it would be her fault, because she had done something to him. This time when she finally let her lips meet his, he responded, restrained at first as if he expected her to pull away but then with abandon. It was amazing, like she was flying but hyper aware of her body at the same time. She was frozen and only melted where he touched her. She was greedy with him, wanting to get to his bare skin as fast as possible but he slowed her with a smile. "You are not the only one that's wanted to do this, so let me enjoy myself please," he chuckled and he lavished affection on her. Never before had a sexual partner cared this much about her pleasure, two of them hadn't even bothered trying to get he turned on. It was funny that the one that didn't need to bother was taking such time and attention for it._

_When he finally did enter her, she orgasmed immediately; biting his shoulder to stifle her cry. She tasted blood in her mouth and heard him gasp. Her body quivered and tightened around him, overly sensitive to his every touch. She finally unclamped her teeth from him and propped himself up on his elbows above her. It was hard to read his eyes in such low light. They looked almost black. He kissed the corner of her mouth and she saw blood on his lip. She opened her mouth to apologize but he hushed her. "Are you ok, do you want me to stop?" He asked her, smoothing her bangs from her face lovingly. She wanted to cry. How could this man, this person so far out of her league care for her comfort? How could he be buried to the hilt inside of her, yet remain still until she told him to move? She knew Hughes would say it was being raised by women that beat the shit out of him every time he did anything even remotely ungentlemanly. But he had to know she wouldn't care. He had to know that he was more important to her than her own life._

_She was so sensitive, that even breathing sent shots of electricity through her, but she gritted her teeth and clamped her knees around him. She twisted, flipping him under her, so she could straddle him. She rose up and sank down, nearly screaming from pleasure and groaned, "don't you dare."_

_His hands ran along her legs and to her hips, gentle and teasing. "Yes, ma'am," he answered and she lost herself in his eyes, and is adorable grin._

_When they were both sated and dressed, they stole away from their private haven. He stopped her on the stairs, turned her around to face him. "You're so beautiful, Riza. You are one of the only 3 things that keeps me going here," he told her and kissed her hairline. She felt a lump grow in her throat. How could he say such kind things to someone like her, especially after she had just guilted him into having sex with her against his will? She was a killer and worse than that, Kimblee had been right, she did pride herself on her skill. Once they were away from this place, he wouldn't look at her again. It made sense, she realized, she was a piece of home, a reminder of the idyllic time he spent with her father. That's why she mattered to him but once he was back in Central she would just be another broad assed solider in blue, nothing special never special, not her._

_She said nothing in return to him because what could she say? She didn't want to make him feel as if he owed her anything, even if she wanted to keep him beside her more than anything. She simply turned and walked back to her tent. He followed her most of the way but split off once they were back among company. She didn't miss Hughes or Weasel swooping in on him like angry vultures, one no doubt looking for information, the other looking for food. She knew she should go to the showers because she wouldn't have time to in the morning but she didn't. She wanted to be able to smell him as she crossed and un crossed her legs tomorrow. She sank into her cot and listened to the other women chatting around her. She didn't care, she could die happy, if the last thing she knew was his eyes._

They were finally able to move away from her and Edward felt like he needed to bleach his eyeballs. Of all the things he could have seen, his CO banging away at his adjutant was probably near the bottom of the list of desired events. "I told you, you should probably have shut your eyes," Mustang smirked at him.

"What was that?" Edward stuttered, still reeling from the raw strength of Hawkeye's love for the Colonel.

"Well, Edward, when a man and a woman, or sometimes two women or two men, or even one man and two women, love each other," Edward glared at him deciding if he should throw a punch.

"You and the lieutenant?" He finally asked at a more sedate volume.

"Look, you have to understand, she wasn't my lieutenant then, she was just a soldier, nothing special. You cannot tell anyone about this." Roy stopped and looked him in the eye.

"How can you say she isn't special? You felt what she felt, she loves you more than anything any and you treat her like she is just some chick that works for you."

"Maybe you should wait till you're old enough to know what to do with your prick before you comment on the relationships of others," Roy spoke coldly, arms crossed. Edward had hit a nerve, a big one. Even he could tell this was not someplace he wanted to poke, not that it ever stopped him before.

"You're such an asshole. She could get better than you in a heartbeat!" Ed shouted.

"I don't argue that," the Colonel agreed then moved on, "however, you don't know shit about our relationship or how it works, so please refrain from passing judgement on either of us because she'll be the one that gets hurt and I can't have that." He walked away and Edward had to trot to keep up.

"How can you live with yourself, when all you do is use her? It was bad enough when I thought it was just professional, but this, this is just disgusting," Edward couldn't even say the word for what he had seen but he knew it was wrong. Something about it was so wrong. Of course it never occurred to him that she liked and wanted that intimacy just as much as Roy had. For some reason Edward always assumed women didn't like sex and she was just doing it to make him happy like she did so many other things; like get his coffee or lunch, file his paperwork, take his clothes to the cleaners, or rub his shoulders. She gave and he took, that was what their relationship was, at least as far as Fullmetal knew.

"It must be nice, Fullmetal, to be so perfect you can look down on everyone else," he sniped and continued on, anger clear in his voice. Edward didn't comment, for once, realizing that this was not a good fight to pick right now or maybe he really didn't understand an adult relationship like theirs.

Their next scene seemed to take forever to resolve itself, or maybe it just seemed so because of the underlying tension between them. Edward couldn't see the point of this whole thing. He thought at first that it was so the Colonel could see that his past made him tough but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to garner from seeing Mustang's stupid life and what a dick he was to everyone. He already knew that.

When they found themselves in a private train car that was occupied by Roy and Riza and their two dogs, it was a relief to not have to pay attention to each other. Black Hayate was curled in a basket on the floor , politely chewing on a bone, while Weasel was sprawled on the bench, half in Roy's lap. She pawed at him as soon as he stopped petting her, like the brat she was. Edward wasn't surprised that Hawkeye's dog was better behaved than Mustang's.

He waited, trying to determine who the target person was until he realized it wasn't a he but a what.

_She dozed on and off, only coming alert when the Warm Thing stopped stroking her ears. She loved spending time with the Warm Thing, he was always kind to her and he saved her life. He was her first memory really. She remembered being cold, alone, and scared, then the Warm Thing picked her up and tucked her into his coat. Her brothers and sisters were gone but he talked to her, fed her, kept her warm and safe and in return she kept him company. She had learned early on, that the Warm Thing was sometimes sad and lonely._

_She yawned and stretched her paw out, nestling further onto his lap. He didn't mind, but then again, the Warm Thing never did. She heard the quiet huff from the Bitch. "You know you shouldn't let her sit on you like that. She'll think she's as high in the pack as you and she'll get spoiled," she looked down her nose. Normally she liked the Bitch but her scent had been off lately and her mood had been awful. She was being very mean the Warm Thing and making him sad._

" _She's lived with me for five and a half years, I think it's a little late to be worrying about that now," he defended quietly. "Besides, she's probably uncomfortable on this hard bench._

" _Like I said you spoil her," she snipped and loudly turned the page on the magazine she was reading. The Warm Thing continued to stare out of the window. "Will you stop staring at me!" she snapped._

" _I'm not staring at you. I'm looking out of the window," he defended, trying not to lose his temper. He sighed then said, "look, can we please talk about this? We need to decide what we want to do," he tried but she pursed her lips and rose to leave the cabin. "Where are you going?"_

" _To the lavatory, if you must know, Colonel." She nearly growled._

" _Are you alright?" he made to rise, worry scent spiking through him._

" _I have to pee, if that's alright with you, sir?" She stormed out and nearly broke the glass slamming the sliding door._

_He watched after her until she hooked his free hand with her paw, forcing him to start petting her again. "At least you still like me, huh? While I'm scratching your ears anyway," he joked with her but she could tell that the Warm Thing was unhappy. She wished she could make him understand, she love him and would never leave him, not until death makes her._

_The rest of the trip passed in the same tense silence that erupted again when the Warm Thing had the nerve to hold the door open for the Bitch. She wasn't sure why it was a problem; Warm Thing always held the door and it never bothered her before. Maybe she was in heat. Once in the cab, the drove to one of the few places she really didn't like. It was loud, smelled awful, and there were too many nosey women. It was where the Fat Frog Lady lived and she didn't like her. They arrived to the typical smoky stink and cooing by women that smelled like they had raised their tails for every dog in town. They had finally learned not to touch her. The Bitch snapped and growled when the Warm Thing tried to carry her bag for her and slammed her door in his face, all with Fat Frog Lady watching._

" _I'm going to take Weasel for a walk," he turned back towards the door, digging her leash out of his bag. "You want to go for a walk, pretty girl?" he asked her as he rubbed the spot between her eyes. It felt so good, when he did that. He hooked her up and led her out of the door. There was a light mist falling but neither of them cared. They walked in a companionable silence for a block or two before he looked down at her, "sorry for the collar and leash but Central has laws about these things." She nosed his hand to show forgiveness. In all honesty, she didn't mind wearing them, the leash let lowly strays know he was taken and he had transmuted the collar just for her out of crystals and silver to make it look like one of the Fat Frog Lady's necklaces, only she wore it better because she had a neck._

_They walked towards the park, stopping at an antique shop so he could look at the collection of jade. She had lost count over the years of how many stores he had taken her into just to look at jade bracelets but never actually bought any of them. They headed then to the park to wander around for a while, until she had relieved herself and burned off some energy. Once they got to the center of it, it was almost completely dark but he didn't turn them around, instead he sat down in drizzle and of course she jumped up beside him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I really screwed up this time, pretty girl. I ruined everything and I don't know what to do," he admitted her, bringing his warm arm up to wrap around her. "I need to figure out how to fix this or I might lose her," he whispered to her, burying his nose in her ear fur. They stayed that way for a few minutes and she did her best to remind him that he never had to fix anything with her. He finally stood up, "come on, sweetheart, it's getting cold out here."_

_They barely made it through the door before Fat Frog Lady grabbed the Warm Thing by the back of his coat and dragged him into the parlor. Weasel trotted behind them at a discrete distance before arranging herself closest to the fire. "What did you do to her?" She bellowed at him as she shoved him onto the couch. Her meaty hands on, what she assumed was her waist, though it was hard to tell because she was so misshapen compared to the people Weasel was used to seeing._

" _Why do you automatically assume I did something wrong?"_

" _Because you're a man, therefore you are always wrong." She answered glaring at him through her wrinkled face. The Warm Thing just glared right back at her. "Roy, what did you do to that sweet girl? She's probably the only woman that will put up with you and you obviously did something to ruin it?" She could see by his body language that Fat Frog Lady's words hurt him and it really made her want to bite Fat Frog Lady but the Warm Thing didn't want her to get in trouble for biting, even if they deserve it._

" _Well I guess you answered it. I obviously did something to fuck it all up," he told her, still glaring and she shot her hand out and smacked him across the right cheek._

" _What did you do, useless brat?" She nearly shouted at him and he dropped his eyes in submission._

" _She's pregnant," he nearly whispered and she slapped him again on the other cheek._

" _Idiot! I taught you better than to be so stupid!" She did actually shout at him. He dropped his head this time and Weasel pushed her way between them and sat against him, nosing his hand. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of a baby but anything that was part of the Warm Thing would be loved and protected and she didn't care what he said. If Fat Frog Lady hit him again she was going to bite. "What are you going to do about it?" she finally sat down._

" _I don't know yet. We're not even 100% sure she is, that's why we're in Central, to go to a doctor that doesn't know us," he explained, his head still hanging. She never liked that Fat Frog Lady always made him seem so submissive but then again she was bigger than him._

" _You are an idiot, Roy, a complete moron. How could you let this happen?" She derided him and she wondered how exactly it was entirely the Warm Thing's fault. The Bitch had been more than willing to lift her tail for him, so wasn't it partially her fault too?_

" _Believe me, she's been telling me that for days," he tried to joke but it fell flat._

" _Have you asked her to marry you yet?"_

" _Yes, many times. In fact I ask her over coffee on the first of every month and she always turns me down," he explained. She was usually there along with Hayate. The Warm Thing always smiled when she said no but he was always sad about it. She would be ok with it, as long as she still got to sleep in the bed and Hayate left her toys alone. "She always tells me not till I make it to Führer." Fat Frog Lady just shook her head at him and left. She stayed beside him for an hour or so until he fixed her dinner and they went to bed. She wondered why he didn't eat._

_The next morning was hectic and she was forced to stay behind, when the Warm Thing and the Bitch left. Hayate tried to charm food out of everyone, while she stayed in bed with her head on the Warm Thing's pillow. When they returned, they went to the Bitch's room, closing the door. She had snuck in of course, she wasn't about to left outside._

" _Riza, are you willing to sit down and talk about it now that we know for sure?" he asked her and she turned her back to him, pretending to fiddle with a hair brush._

" _What do you want to talk about? This is just a hiccup in our plans. Don't worry about it," she droned. She was lying. Couldn't he smell it on her?_

" _This is more than a slight bump on the road. We need to get married,"_

" _No we don't. If we get married, I have to leave the military and that leaves no one to watch your back. I won't allow that," she turned to glare at him._

" _Fine, I'll leave then," The Warm Thing said and she wondered if he meant it? "I'll turn in my State Alchemists license and become a teacher." She slapped him, just like Fat Frog Lady had. She wondered sometimes why all the women he knew treated him so badly but all the men were scared or at the very least intimidated by him._

" _Don't be an idiot, Colonel. First off, you hate kids and second, you can't leave, how will you become Führer if you do? I am not destroying all your hard work!"_

" _You and our child are not destroying anything. We didn't plan for it to happen right now but that doesn't mean we can't still be happy," he tried taking her hands._

" _And you think your blood stained hands deserve to hold our baby?" she snarled at him. "Do you think that after everything you've done, we have done, all the crimes we have committed that we should be allowed to be happy? Don't be so ridiculously sentimental." The Warm Thing looked like she had slapped him again. "I don't want you to worry about this. I'll take care of it, I promise," she looked down and the Warm Thing crouched in front of her._

" _What do you mean?"_

" _You know damn well what I mean. We haven't sacrificed this much for you to reach your goal, only to be sidetracked by an accidental pregnancy." She shook her hands out of his, not meeting his eyes. "Look at it this way, it won't be the first child either of us as killed," she walked to the bed and lied down, effectively dismissing both of them._

_The Warm Thing grabbed her and they left to go see Smiley. She liked Smiley, she had known him almost as long as the Warm Thing and he was always kind. She knew the Warm Thing loved Smiley just as much as the Bitch. In respect to their long association, she wagged her tail and allowed Smiley to lavish her with an appropriate amount of affection._

_She settled herself on the couch beside the Warm Thing with her front legs in his lap and her head leaning against his chest. It was her favorite position. "I see she still treats you like a pillow," Smiley joked and handed the Warm Thing a glass of something strong smelling. "So what brings you to Central so abruptly and without orders?"_

" _Riza's pregnant," he said bluntly and drank half of his drink. Smiley looked shocked. "We just found out this morning, at least found out for sure," he trailed off._

_Smiley's smile got even wider, "That's wonderful, Roy! I hope you have a daughter, so you can be as happy as me. Ooh, or a son so they could get married," he beamed._

" _Don't get so excited, my situation is quite a bit different," the Warm Thing explained, sounding rather strained. "I'm not a happily married man."_

" _No but you two have been in love with each other since you were what 14 and 15? You just decided to do things slightly out of order," he teased but the Warm Thing's sour mood wouldn't budge._

" _It's not that easy. We only have so many choices," he explained, holding his glass out for more vile smelling liquid. "Either we get married and one of us leaves the military, which she refuses. She gives it up for adoption, or she passes it off as someone else's kid. Both of those result in me never being able to raise my own child."_

" _There has to be another option?" Smiley wasn't smiling so much now._

" _Of course there is, that's why she wanted to stay with Madame Christmas," the Warm Thing answered, leaning his head back. Smiley looked confused. "Consider how many prostitutes get pregnant but how few of them actually have children. Who better to know how to get rid of an unplanned pregnancy," he explained and she could sense his despair, though his voice and demeanor were flat._

" _She wouldn't?" Smiley sounded disbelieving._

" _She would. She said, 'it wouldn't be the first child either of us had killed.' And that 'my hands were too blood stained to hold my child'."_

" _Ouch," Smiley winced._

" _Not that I blame her, it's true. We've both done horrible things, me more so than her, and frankly don't deserve to have a nice, happy life, not in the grand scheme of things. It violates the Law of Equivalent Exchange, really. I've taken so many people's children that I should now have to give mine up." The Warm Thing continued._

" _Life isn't a chemical equation, Roy. You can't explain away decisions and lives based equivalent value. Life just isn't that logical sometimes." Smiley seemed totally exasperated._

" _Maybe it's for the best. I would be a shitty dad anyway. And she was right, I don't really like kids," his fingers rubbed her ears and she leaned a little heavier against his chest. She disagreed with him. He had taken care of her when she had been a very small puppy in the middle of a war zone. How much different was a human pup?_

" _You can't mean that. That can't be what you really want."_

" _Does it really matter what I want?" The Warm Thing snapped. "Every time I open my mouth to talk about it someone tells me to shut up. So I'm going to do what I've been told and live with her choice, since apparently the fault is mine, the responsibility is mine, but the decision isn't," he answered bitterly._

" _Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Roy!" Smiley grumbled. "If you want the kid tell her, in plain English that you do. Knowing you, you are arguing logic and reason rather than telling her how you feel. For once in your emotionally repressed, intellectualizing life, tell someone how you feel." She didn't think it seemed fair that everyone yelled at the Warm Thing for being too repressed but the minute he tried to talk about how he felt they told him to be quiet or that how he was feeling was wrong. No wonder he only talked to her._

_They didn't stay much longer than that. Smiley's wife came home with Smiley's sticky child and neither of them couldn't be out of there fast enough. Especially since the little girl started screaming the minute she saw the Warm Thing. They took the long way home and walked around until it was well past dark. The Warm Thing was still maudlin but put on a bright face as they walked in. She wondered why humans did that. It was so easy to smell when they were lying. He fed her then knocked timidly on the Bitch's door. They both entered, him baring cookies and her nothing but her beauty, which was more than enough._

" _I picked these up for you, cashew and salty caramel, your favorite," he smiled at her. She sat up and sniffed a cookie taking and experimental bite, then inhaled all six of them._

" _Thanks," she practically licked the crumbs from the plate. "About earlier," she started and he held his hand up._

" _It's ok, no matter what, I'll still love you," he started as if he intended to say more but stopped. He looked away from her and bit his lip. She also found it rather unfair that the Bitch never said she loved him back. More than anything she wished she could talk so she could tell the Warm Thing how much she loved him but the Bitch could say it but wouldn't. Stupid, stupid humans._

" _I'm going in to have it done tomorrow morning," she stopped him before he could say anything else. "Your Aunt and one of the girls are going to take me."_

" _Oh, I can go with you, if you want," he looked at her and tried to smile. Even she could see it was a poor imitation of his usual smile._

" _No, absolutely not! I don't want you there. I don't know if I could do it, with you there," she admitted and sank her hand into Hayate's fur. For once the bouncing ball of energy was actually being calm. For all that he was descended from an ancient breed; he was a young soul, brash and excitable. He wanted adventure and recognition. She was more circumspect about things, since she was a truly ancient breed and a very old soul. She had lost count of the lives she had lived beside man, guarding and hunting for them but never before had she loved one as dearly as the Warm Thing. When death finally rent her from him, she would not come back. She would wait for him and she would be the first to greet him in death with a smile and a wagging tail._

" _You know, you don't have to, right? We can figure something else out, if you don't want to go through with it," he tried, not meeting her eyes. "I mean logically, the risk might be too great to your health. Not to mention prevent you from being able to have children later in life. We could have Falman look through the regulations to see if there is a loop hole to allow you to remain with me, if anyone can find it he can. Not to mention that statistically speaking."_

" _Stop! Just stop, please. I have made up my mind and your reasoning is not going to change it, so please leave," she spoke forcefully to him then whispered, "everything will be back to normal tomorrow, sir."_

_He nodded and rose, stopping at the door. "If you change your mind and want me to go with you, please let me know." He then walked back to his own room and she followed. She knew him well, in some ways better than anyone else because she was the keeper of some of his deepest, darkest secrets. Not to mention she could tell his moods by scent and right now he was in turmoil. He closed them in his room and she hopped on the bed beside him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'm a coward," he looked over at her and said. She licked his nose in sympathy. He really could be sometimes. "I don't want to force her to do something she doesn't want to do but I don't want her to think that this is what I want. But on the flip side, I don't want her to feel bad for doing it, if it really is what she wants and if I say anything, I will probably make her feel worse," he explained and confused her. He flopped onto his back and she lied down beside him, her chin across is shoulder and neck, one paw on his chest. "I'm too afraid to say it. Isn't that sad? I've charged into the middle of battles of magic, battles of weapons, and battles of wits without looking back but I can't admit to anyone but you that deep down I want to have a family with her. I'm pathetic," he started to stroke her side and she nuzzled him. "I don't deserve it though, not after the things I've done. She does though. She only sees the bad things about herself, never the good ones. She's helped so many more people than she's hurt and has earned the chance to be happy." She believed that humans used the phrase 'pot calling the kettle black,' to express the idiocy of his way of thinking. "But what if having a baby won't make her happy? She likes her independence so she might not want to be mother, though I bet she'd be great at it. Or worse, what if she just doesn't want to have my baby?" He took a shuddering breath that after all these years she understood as him trying to pull himself together. She sat still as stone waiting to see if he would spring up and into action or if she would be licking tears from his cheeks._

" _It doesn't matter though, I guess. She's made up her mind and we'll live with it. She'll never know it bothers me. I won't let her see it, right?" He smiled at her, the edges of his mouth shook. "It's just dependable Hawkeye cleaning up stupid Mustang's mistakes again," he joked and she knew he didn't find it funny. He didn't talk to her the rest of the night but he also spent most of it tossing and turning, keeping her awake. She didn't mind though, they had spent enough nights like this, with his hand on her just so that he knew he wasn't alone. At least he didn't wake up screaming or shake the bed with his nightmares. Those were the worst nights, when all she could do for him was huddle close and let his tears soak her fur._

_The next morning he left for work and the Bitch left with Fat Frog Lady, leaving her and Hayate alone. The poor pup was confused over the depression of his mistress and for once sat quietly with her. Normally she would have gone to work with the Warm Thing but apparently dogs weren't normally allowed into government buildings. Patently unfair as far as she was concerned. The Warm Thing came home for dinner but mostly paced around or scribbled on paper. When the Bitch returned, she looked horrible, pale and weak, and she could smell blood. Hayate was beside himself with worry and she hated to admit she was too. The Warm Thing took one look at her and picked her up bridal style, carrying her to her room. She simply slumped against him, tears in her eyes. He laid her down on the bed, helping her change and clean up. She did little but cling to him sobbing. They didn't speak until he had her tucked in and was stroking her hair, as he knelt on the floor beside her._

" _It was a boy," she whispered to him and he bent over and kissed her forehead._

" _Shh, get some sleep, that's an order," he told her and walked out. He paced around his room for a while, making her dizzy until he turned, "You know, it's been forever since I have had a chance to cook," he told her and grabbed her leash. "You fancy a trip to the market, pretty girl?" She would fancy a swim in ice, cold water if it would stop his incessant pacing. They walked out onto the street and she pranced beside him, enjoying the fresh air. She wasn't used to spending so much time cooped up in smoky buildings. The Warm Thing usually went for a nice, long run in the mornings and then took her for a sprint in the afternoon. Plus she usually went to work with him and slept under his desk, where he had built her a little blanket fort. The best were the days when he would hide under there with her._

_They walked to the open air market, where most people greeted the Warm Thing kindly and or jokingly. There were quite a few stray dogs roaming around and she raised her head and lip to any that got too close to them. She was wise and kind but very jealous of the Warm Thing's attention. She didn't even really like him playing with Hayate. She cooled down though, once he showed her the rabbit pelt he purchased to make her a new toy to destroy. He was too good to her sometimes but it was nothing less than she deserved._

_Food purchased, they strolled home, and she knew he was dragging his feet so to speak. He didn't really want to back to that smelly place any more than she did, so they turned and headed towards the park for a nice romp. He transmuted the pelt into stuffed toy covered in rabbit fur for her to chase. Once she was done, he let her rest and even did the cool trick where he cupped his hands and created water out of thin air for her to drink. He then sat on the damp grass with her as she panted. "I miss Central sometimes," he stroked her leg, checking her paws for injury. "But other times I miss the East. Tell me why I can't ever just be happy where I am?" He asked her with a forced smile that quickly faded as he watched a young man in military blues, playing with twin boys that were only about 2 years old. The two children were dressed alike knickerbockers and suspenders with chubby cheeks and red caps. The man leaned down and whispered something to them then the two boys took off running and he slowly started trotting after them as if it was difficult to catch them. Frankly they were so slow she had no desire to chase them. They stopped and the man swung both them up into his arms, laughing._

_He set them down and one of them made a beeline right for them screaming, "Look, Daddy, doggy." She wanted to groan, she was going to get sticky child hands all over her coat. The little boy toddled over, one hand thrust into his mouth, luckily the man caught him and held him back._

" _You need to ask to pet the dog," he scolded, "I'll ask the nice man," he smiled. "Oi, Mister, is it ok if my sons pet your dog?" He asked and Roy stared at him for a moment before looked down at her to judge her mood and slowly nodding. The two little filth bags came closer on their stubby, jerky legs and knelt down to pat her head. She endured it stoically for the Warm Thing's benefit. The man bent down to pet her too and seemed to finally notice the Warm Thing's watch and epilates. "Lieutenant Colonel, Alchemist, sir, I'm sorry for not realizing before." He quickly jumped up, saluting._

" _It's alright, Lieutenant?"_

" _Panzer, I'm George Panzer, Lieutenant in book keeping, sir. And these are my son's Tommy and Timmy," he beamed proudly at the ankle biters._

_The Warm Thing held his hand up to shake but didn't stand. "It's nice to meet me, I'm Colonel Mustang. I'm usually stationed back East and this is Weasel, my faithful bed warmer," he stroked her head._

" _You're, you mean you're the Flame Alchemist?" he stuttered. There were nearly stars in his eyes. "It's an honor to meet you sir, my brothers served in Ishval and they spoke so much about the work you did there. It truly is, well, an honor," the man gushed._

" _Thank you," he smiled but there was no happiness to it. He did, however, watch the family walk away with an oddly wistful look on his face. Shortly afterwards they walked back to the smelly place and he quietly checked on the Bitch. She was sleeping soundly so he went to the kitchen to start cooking._

_He had opted for chicken and dumplings, a fairly easy dish that she greatly enjoyed because he always gave her a plate of it because there weren't many spices in it. He would eat it though he was no where near as good of a cook as the Bitch. She collapsed on her side under the rickety kitchen table and watched him begin breaking down chickens. Maybe if she moved a bit closer, he might drop some. Alas he didn't though and soon the kitchen was filled with the smell of cooking bird and the sound of his knife rhythmically chopping yucky green things. She dosed for a bit trying to ignore the strong smell of onions and his sniffles until heard him yelp, "shit" and caught the strong smell of blood. She sat up and watched as he turned on the water and thrust his fingers under it, the snuffles continuing, if anything getting stronger. Pretty soon he turned around and slid down to the ground, his back resting against the cabinets and his knees pulled up to his chest. She could see blood on the rag he had around his left hand._

_She quickly came over to inspect the damage, worried for the Warm Thing. He was clearly wounded and had tears running down his face, she hoped he wasn't dying. The last time she had seen him cry openly like this, Smiley thought he was going to die. She nosed his wet cheek as he wiped his nose on ends of the rag wrapped around his bleeding hand. She looked away when Fat Frog Lady came in, a tumbler of whiskey clutched in her meaty paw._

" _What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked him, dropping ash from her cigarette onto his knees._

" _I cut my finger," he mumbled, not looking at her but staring at her lumpy knees._

" _And you're on the floor crying over a cut finger?" He shook his head 'no.' From her angle all she would be able to see was his shaggy hair. "Look at me." He finally looked up and she smacked him across the face. "You have no right to sit there sniveling after what that girl as gone through on your behalf."_

" _I'm not sniveling, it's the sulfoxides," he defended himself._

" _What?"_

" _I was cutting onions and I was too lazy to set up an array to transmute them into aerosolized Hydrobromine pentoxide." She stared at him in other confusion. "When you cut onions you release amino acid sulfoxides that react with the water in your eyes and makes them tear. I usually use and array to transmute it so they don't bother me. I didn't bother this time," he looked down._

" _Just pull your shit together, Roy boy. She's going to need you to be strong for her. No woman should have to go through what she did and someone like you can't understand it. All you can do is make sure you take care of her," she threw at him and left._

_He watched her as she weaseled her way between his legs so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. "She doesn't need to remind me how useless I am. I'm well aware of that fact," he joked then leaned his head over till it was resting against her muzzle. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked her and she wondered why he bothered to ask. "I'm not doing as well at this as I should be," he whispered. "I know I need to take care of her and be strong for her because no mother should have to do that to their own child but," he bit his lip for a moment but continued, "what about the father? I know it's not the same, but don't I get to be a little bit sad? He was my son too," he sniffled. She wondered why he didn't ask the Bitch because she was standing just on the other side of the wall. He took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted his head back up. "Ok, let's get a bandage and finish supper, ok?" He beamed at her and she knew he would never mention it again. Like too many other things, he would avoid thinking about it or talking about it even with her. If anyone asked, he would quite logically explain why it was that he wasn't upset all the while slowly crumbling inside. She bunted her forehead against him and whined._

The world resolved itself and they were able to move on. Edward wasn't sure what he thought about that whole scene. It never occurred to him in a million years that Hawkeye and Mustang were  _that_ close. But it also never occurred to him that she would abort a child or that Mustang would want one. All the times he had seen his Colonel around Elicia, the man had seemed ridiculously uncomfortable, bordering on panicked and she was his Goddaughter. It was all so odd.

"That was," he started.

"Keep your mouth shut, Fullmetal," Mustang barked at him and walked ahead.

"Wait," he called after the retreating man but he didn't slow. "You want children?" he asked softly, suspecting it was probably a touchy subject.

"Want has nothing to do with anything, Fullmetal," he snapped.

"If you wanted to keep it, why didn't you say something?" he finally ran to get in front of the faster man. "Why did you just sit back and let her kill your child?"

"It wasn't a child, it was a blob of cells and it was and is none of your goddamn business, now move!"

"You can't even be honest with yourself, can you, you heartless wretch?" Edward snarked at him. If this whole thing was so that they could understand each other, then probably the thing he had learned about Mustang was that in some ways he was a craven coward.

"You have no right to lecture me on anything about love or family, foolish kid. At least I didn't think combining ammonia and calcium would bring them back to life," he snapped and so did Edward. Before he knew what he was doing, he had punched the Bastard Colonel right in the face. Of course it didn't do any good because he couldn't register pain it but it made him feel better.

"How dare you! How dare you say something so awful and hateful?" He spat, never wanting to hurt someone so much before. "Al and I loved our mother, we thought we could bring her back all we wanted was to help her."

"You are right, making comments about how someone reacts to the loss of a loved one is uncalled for, I apologize," he inclined his head and Edward realized he had just been scolded because that was exactly what he had done, assuming Mustang actually loved anything other than himself and apparently his dog. He got the point but he would be damned if he would say sorry, not to this man. "We should get moving," he walked on and Edward was glad to see he didn't actually expect an apology because he wasn't getting one.

They walked through the streets of Central and the park seemed to darken and the ground became gritty and sifting. Sand he soon realized which mean they were probably going back to Ishval. He was beginning to wonder if all of the Colonel's memories had something to do with that place. He was starting to feel like he had served a tour of duty there. They ended up in a tent, a rather normal looking tent for an officer. The only things that were abnormal were the rather elegant gaze hound sleeping on the cot, while the two human occupants sat on the floor arguing. He recognized Mustang and Hughes immediately and wondered what in the world Flame could have said that would have made Hughes grab his collar like that.

He looked over at his Roy to ask and noticed the man was white as a sheet and was shaking his head, trying to back away. "Mustang," Edward called but he didn't seem to even hear him.

"No, no, not this, please not this," he whispered, his hands shaking.

"Not what?" Edward asked and wondered if his Mustang had lost it.

"I can't, not this. Please, please, please, not this, not again." He watched his CO sink to the ground, hands in his hair, knees pulled up to his chest, and the toes of his boots touching each other. Needless to say, Edward was a little freaked out. He had never seen Mustang so unsettled, not even with losing a child what the hell were they about to see?

"Colonel?" he started when he felt himself drawn to their target person. It was Hughes.

_He watched the hand run past the 30 second mark but couldn't bring himself to call Roy's name. His friend was disappearing before his eyes and Heathcliff trying to kill him and Hughes's own actions hadn't helped Mustang's mental stability. Not that he was surprised, all the soldiers were showing signs of stress but none more so than the Alchemists. Of the 12 Combat Alchemists that had been deployed under Order 3066, 1 had been sent home missing a leg, Armstrong and McDougal had both had spectacular meltdowns that had required them leaving the field, 2 had been injured beyond fighting ability, and 4 had committed suicide. That left only General Gran, who had killed his own commanding officer; Kimblee, who had never been quite right in the head, but was now pretty much a certifiable sociopath; and finally Mustang, who was quietly imploding as they spoke. That was the problem with human weapons, in the end, they were human._

_Roy was being crushed under the weight of his guilt over his actions. Each person he incinerated was another brick laid on the foundation of his grief and Hughes didn't know how much more he could take. Heathcliff had been a blow neither of them was going to laugh off any time soon. No one knew for sure, though some speculated, but Flame was losing it, not scarily like Kimblee or remarkably like McDougal but silently, privately in the worst way. Both he and Riza were worried out of their minds for him. It was getting harder and harder to get responses or reactions out of him. Most of the time he didn't want their company and Riza had confided that he hadn't even wanted sex. Usually he would come back, clean up, and hide in his tent with Weasel, who was the only one he was willing to talk to. That was perhaps the most frustrating thing. Maes couldn't help him, if he couldn't get to him. He had actually been happy that Roy had sliced him to the bone with his razor sharp tongue a few minutes ago because if he was lashing out at someone he wasn't internalizing it._

_Hughes sometimes wished he hadn't grown up in a family of psychiatrists because it was all too easy for him to fall back on analyzing others. But Roy was such a text book case of someone that internalized and intellectualized his feelings so he didn't have to deal with them. The man was pretty much physically incapable of starting a sentence with "I feel." He knew some of it had to do with his foster mother being a bit of negligent drunk and some of it had to do with losing his parents so young but sadly, he suspected the majority of it was just that Roy was really bad at dealing with feelings. He sighed to himself, remember all the times in the academy that he and Erbe used to razz Roy about being so emotionally repressed but now it was killing him and he wished more than anything for a way to help him._

_He had no choice after a full minute went by, he didn't even turn around, "times up, Flame." He tried to sound level, serious, but knew he sounded as hollow as he felt. Even though he understood Roy's maudlin comments about touching Gracia with his blood stained hands, it had still hurt. It had hurt far worse than he would let his friend know. Roy rose, pulling on his glove and followed him to the briefing on what was expected. All he knew was that the Führer was here and he wanted the extermination complete by the end of the week. It was ludicrous. He wasn't allowed in the meeting, it was only Colonels or higher and Alchemists but when Mustang emerged, he looked blank and nearly walked right past Hughes._

" _What's going on, Roy?" he fell into step beside his friend, unwilling to leave him alone to brood for too long. And, if he were honest with himself, concentrating on Roy made it easier not to think about himself. He had killed one of his best friends from the Academy yesterday to protect another friend. Those were not things he wanted to poke at just yet._

" _I have Dahlia," he answered. His voice sounded as rough as he looked. "I'm to clear the entire village by sun down," he explained and walked away, leaving Hughes in the dust._

" _Hughes," his General called him over. He trotted over and saluted. "Walk with me Captain, I have a personal matter to discuss with you," the Gran asked and set off away from the command tend. Once they were far enough away he stopped and turned on his heels. "I seem to recall that you and Flame were rather close," he began, "went to school together and are good friends?"_

" _Yes, sir," he nodded._

" _I'll be blunt, I'm concerned for Flame's state of mind. He's always been professional, efficient, in his work and in meetings but he seemed, off today. Almost too collected for someone that was ordered to clear out the largest cache of refugees left, mostly women and children. He seemed disconnected," the General struggled to explain his observations and Hughes knew exactly what he was getting at. It was what he had been seeing for weeks maybe months, only now others could see it too._

" _I understand, sir. Roy, Major Mustang, hasn't been himself lately. He's tired and stressed like all of us," he agreed without giving away how concerned he was._

" _I want you to go with him to Dahlia. Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't do anything crazy in front of the Führer," Hughes gasped._

" _Excuse me?"_

" _The Führer wants to see Flame in action and will be in Dahlia for the attack. I tried to talk him out of it but he is the Führer and I couldn't argue much."_

" _Of course, sir, I'll go with him and keep an eye on him as best I can," he paused, "may I also request a sniper to come with us?"_

" _Take any that you would like, in fact take two." The man turned and walked away, no doubt to get ready for his own attack. Hughes turned the opposite direction to find Hawkeye. He quickly explained his need and was nearly run over by her trying to get to Roy to help. They would have to tread carefully though, so he didn't realize he was being watched. Of course it all went to shit when no one could find him. He wasn't in his tent, the mess, with his men, the labs, or anywhere that anyone could find. He had a brief panic that he had gone AWOL but Weasel was still there and he suspected his friend wouldn't leave without her. He was far too attached to her. Eventually he turned up, though, about 90 minutes before sunset. His knees were dirty, his hands blackened by wax pencil, and his china doll pale skin for once flushed from the heat._

_Hughes watched him robotically tell his men where he wanted them and made sure that all the other units knew to pull back by 6:15 before he attacked. Roy was always absolutely anal about making sure there was no one in the field when he attacked but then again considering how destructive he was, it wasn't all that surprising. They all tried to remain calm, knowing that the Crystal Alchemist, Dr. Knox, the Führer, and 4 of his chief aids were going to be watching. Mustang seemed remarkably unfazed by the entire thing, which was worrying. They all traveled to the Dahlia district and Roy climbed a midsized building and stood on the flat, open air roof. Hughes and the entire entourage joined him as the sun was setting. He had tried several times to draw his friend out but Roy wanted none of it, he just kept scribbling in a book and muttering to himself about ionized hydrogen or something._

_It was hot this high up and with the sun still out, even a little. He wondered briefly where Riza was and how she could handle it but figured he would never find her, she was too good for that. Roy finally turned and looked at him with a strange smile on his face. "I wish you hadn't come," he said, then held his fingers up and rubbed his first two fingers together against his thumb. There was a brief smell of smoke but the normal explosions he expected didn't come. The men behind them fidgeted, looking uncomfortable but then a wall of fire erupted in front of them quickly racing around to create a circle, then cutting through it in concentric triangles, odd looking half-moons, and something he couldn't recognize. Hughes realized that Roy had set up multiple circles inside the district and was now using his flames to create a massive fiery array. It was impressive and altogether terrifying._

_As the flames built, so did the sounds of screams from below and the uncomfortable, heavy feeling of being around a powerful Alchemist. He looked closer at the array and noticed it wasn't exactly the same as the one on his glove, it was modified and that the flames were actually spinning like a cyclone. The air around Roy had become so charged that his coat was being whipped around and above the array, lightening arced through the sky as if there were thunderheads near but still he continued to rotate the flames, building the walls higher and higher while more and more blue sparks crackled and the air began to wreak of ozone and other odd chemicals. Something wasn't right, he knew it wasn't but he didn't know what._

" _Stop it you fool, it's going to rebound on you," Dr. Marcoh, shouted, trying to break Roy's concentration. He wasn't sure if Mustang could hear him or not, the massive wall of fire was creating a convection wind that was almost knocking him off his feet._

_He reached out and called Roy's name but his friend just looked at him, giving him an odd smile and said, "cover your eyes," and then everything went white. There was a split second of absolute silence and the brightest white light he had ever seen followed by an explosive mushroom cloud that reached 300 stories easily. None of it hit them though, Mustang had made sure they were protected behind something that was hard to breath and left a taste like pencil lead in his mouth._

_He wondered if that awful explosion had been a rebound but his ears were ringing so much all he could hear had been the Führer saying, "mother of god." Crystal looked sick and Dr. Knox just took out a cigarette and started smoking. Roy continued to stare out as the dust settled. Once it did, it was clear there was nothing left. Not building, not a tree, not a rock, nothing had survived his attack. They would find out later that the heat had actually melted the sand turning the top 18 inches into glass but still Roy just stared until the Führer touched his shoulder. "That was very impressive, Flame. I see I was right about you, you are my most powerful Alchemist. I see great things in your future, Major, great things indeed."_

_They all turned to leave, no one dumb enough to brave the heat of the blast site. He grabbed onto Roy's sleeve, where he stood rubbing his fingers across his lips. "What the hell was that?"_

" _My Magna Opus," he answered with some light in his eyes finally._

" _Roy," he started, not sure what to say._

" _Don't you see, of course you don't see, you're not an Alchemist but it was amazing? They all said it couldn't be done but I did it. They used to say Flame Alchemy was impossible and it was until Master Hawkeye figured it out and they said this wasn't possible but I figured it out," he answered in a frenetic stream. He wondered where Roy's famous control was now. He was acting like a classic manic, which was uncommon for him. Hughes as realized pretty early on that his friend was probably manic if not full blown bi polar. He was just very good at hiding it but he knew where to look and he had seen it in his obsessive preoccupation with things to the point of neglecting himself, in not eating or sleeping for days, in his irrational irritability when disturbed, or even in his occasional frenzied speech and actions, not to mention alternating feelings of grandeur or paranoia. Few ever noticed it though because he was always so controlled, so studied at appearing to be normal that he could fool anyone, unless you lived with him 24/7 and knew what to look for. Then it became obvious that the guy was a 50% genius and 50% madman just like Kimblee._

" _What was this amazing thing you did, I don't understand, explain it to me in plain language," he tried again._

" _Nuclear fission," he said and Hughes still looked confused. "You know when Alchemy is performed; it shifts one molecular compound to another. That always leaves excess electrons behind. That is what causes the static crackling. Gaseous Alchemy like mine is the worst about it because there is nothing to ground it, that's why mine can cause all that lightening. I have a tendency to leave behind hydrogen isotopes, mostly Hydrogen-6, which is really unstable and has a half-life_   _2.90×10_ _22 of, which is really short. So I decided to strip off three of the neutrons and allow them to free range, causing more static electricity and also creating, Hydrogen-3 or tritium. Tritium is more stable and it decays into helium but it's radioactive," he explained looking wild eyed. Hughes really hoped he got to the point soon because nothing he was saying was helping to explain what he had just seen._

" _Anyway, I took the electricity from the extra neutrons and kept feeding it free roaming electrons to force control its trajectory, which was right at a bundle of tritium. The electrons, accelerated by the speed of the lightening were enough to do it; enough to split the tritium nuclei, enough to cause a nuclear reaction, nuclear fission. It's one of the rules of Alchemy, that you can't split a nucleus, but I did it. I figured out how." Hughes noticed that Roy was jittering like he had had too much caffeine._

_Before he could comment or more importantly try and calm his friend down, Dr. Marcoh came out of nowhere and slammed Mustang into a wall. "What have you done?" he spat into the younger man's face. "How could you create something like that? And dear god, how could you let the Führer see it? You just handed him the fucking world on a platter, you stupid, stupid kid. The only saving grace is that you are probably the only Alchemist capable of performing that abomination, even studying your arrays no one else has even been able to perform Flame Alchemy outside of an oxygen pressurized chamber in the lab so the chances of anyone other than you being able to control a reaction such as this is well-nigh impossible but still. I was right to try and keep you out of the program. You are a walking weapon of mass destruction." He shoved Roy again but let go. "You should be proud of yourself, Flame, you and Kimblee used to always be in competition for the most destructive but you showed him. Even with it," he stuttered for a moment but continued, "Compared to you Kimblee's a nagging, little cold. You're the fucking black plague and if there is a hell, I'll see you rotting right beside me." He ranted then calmed himself, backing off slightly from Roy's personal space. "Destroy your research, don't ever let it see the light of day. For all that is even remotely holy, don't let the government get their hands on what you did, it's evil pure and simple."_

" _It's not evil. It's science, just like any other discovery. The knowledge isn't evil, just the application of it," Mustang defended himself, sounding as contrary as he always used to._

" _You are so young, Roy," Marcoh almost whispered, "so idealistic and ignorant of the world. There are things that have no good application. There are discoveries that can only ever bring pain and death, and this is one of them." He walked close to Mustang again and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "and think about it this way, do you want your Magna Opus, your great work that you will be remembered for to be how efficiently you killed 50 thousand people?" He turned and walked away, Knox trailing after him._

_Roy said nothing else as they road back to the camp. Hughes tried to speak to him but his friend turned his back and lead Weasel into his tent, blocking out the world. He stood in indecision for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, when Hawkeye found him. He gave her a quick hug, knowing that both of them needed it. "He accomplished fission, didn't he?" she whispered to him. "He and my father argued about it constantly, whether it was possible. Roy was convinced it was and so he was right. I wish to god that he hadn't been." She seemed so sad but he wasn't sure why. When he had first realized how much they loved each other, he had been shocked. Frankly, even though he liked Riza, Roy could get way better. Mustang could be ridiculously charming and genial when he wanted to be, an excellent act that had gotten Hughes laid more times than he had cared to admit. But then he realized how well they worked out together. Due to her father's treatment over the years, she was perfectly fine with Roy's utter lack of outward affection, when he wasn't 'acting' charming. Not too many other women would put up with such a cold fish for very long. Even being friends with him, his natural lack of being emotionally demonstrative could be annoying. And he was perfect for her, since he didn't require a submissive, doting woman to make him feel good about himself. Her independence and strong willed nature suited him better than a demur woman like Gracia ever would. But it worked both ways, Roy was unbothered by her reserve because he generally didn't like people fawning on him. Not many men would indulge her quiet and somewhat controlling demeanor._

" _There was an estimated 40-50 thousand people in that district. They are gone, all gone in less than 2 minutes. I can't even get my head around it," he confessed to her. Hughes was a realist, nowhere near as idealistic as Mustang. He knew that people died in war and that people were called upon to kill but what he had just seen was obscene. The Ishvalans fought with homemade weapons and 20 year old rifles. They expected their god to come and save them but how could they ever hope to stand a chance against someone with the powers of a fucking god? This wasn't war, this was a massacre and no one stood a chance against that sort of might. He sighed, Marcoh had been right, Roy had just handed the Führer the world on a flaming platter._

_Hughes also wasn't oblivious to how Mustang killed. He still remembered the first time he had seen his friend's handiwork up close. He had barely made it two steps before he had vomited. The best way to describe it was that the bodies were roasted, the skin sliding from the bone like well cooked meat and fat opening bubbles in the skin to drip out and congeal under them. In those early days, they all kept the pugilist stance of burn victims, before he had become more efficient, before he had managed to kill them in advance of their brains realizing they were dead. But the worst was the smell, like sweet pork and grease. He still had to suppress a gag thinking about it, even 18 months later. He had become so hardened since then and if he thought about it, Roy had been here nearly a year before he had shown up._

_They both decided they would leave him alone for tonight. He suspected that her reason was similar to his, that neither of them were sure they could look at him and not see the damage he had caused. This was the first time since he had met Roy, that he could honestly say he was afraid of him. When they had first met at the Academy, Mustang was just an annoyance, then a geeky guy that somehow always managed to out think him in class, and finally his best friend; his brother. He never considered him dangerous, cunning maybe, and slightly nutty, but not dangerous. This, this was the first time that he saw what others saw when they looked at Mustang, a terrifying weapon. It was the first time he really and truly understood why the Ishvalans called him by the name of one of their demons, Ntwadumela, 'he who greets with fire'. It was the first time he looked at him and saw not Roy but Flame. He needed a drink. He needed a drink and to go read Gracia's letters and remind himself why he was fighting and maybe by tomorrow he could look at Roy again and not hear the screams of the dying._

_As it turned out, Mustang solved the dilemma for him by not leaving his tent until the appointed time that the Führer was to speak. If Hughes thought he had looked bad yesterday, it was nothing compared to the pale, haggard figure he saw today. His clothes were rumpled, hair messier than usual, eyes were ringed, and face unshaven, though he smiled pleasantly enough when their leader called out his and Kimblee's bravery but Hughes couldn't help but notice how he wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Maes himself had barely slept much last night and instead thought about Mustang, the war, and Gracia. He came to a decision though, he couldn't turn his back on a man that was like a brother to him, just because he was following orders. He was more loyal than that and no matter how Roy tried to push him away, he would just push back harder; because he loved Roy, and he would have him as his best man and the Godfather of his future children. And later, he would stand up with Roy when he married Riza and their kids would grow up together and they would be old grandfather's watching their broods play and reliving their glory days and this would all be forgotten._

_Once the speeches were done, the sun had set and liquor was opened. It was time for celebrating, their leaders claimed, so they should all enjoy themselves. He claimed a bottle of nice red wine and was surprised when Roy found him and Riza with a bottle of whiskey. Contrary to popular belief, Roy was not that much of a drinker. He drank occasionally but he rarely ever got drunk, he was too obsessed with maintaining control. In later years he would look back and realize how much his friend had started self-medicating with liquor after the war but at the time, he was just happy Roy was soliciting their company. They huddled around a fire, Weasel ensconced at Mustang's feet, closest to the fire. Roy didn't say much but he answered questions when asked. He even smiled at Riza though he didn't laugh at any jokes. After a few drinks, he figured that everything was going to be alright. He even smiled, when a photographer took their picture._

_Once they were all well into the bottle and Hawkeye had shuffled away to relieve herself, they sat in companionable silence, Roy running his fingers lovingly through Weasel's fur. "Can you do me a favor?" Roy asked and Hughes nodded in return. "Can you keep an eye on Weasel for me?"_

" _Sure," he answered, most of his attention focused on a rowdy group of soldiers that had started a sing along._

" _Thanks," he mumbled and Maes saw him out of the corner of his eyes bend down and kiss his dog, whispering something in her ear. He then rose and staggered away and Hughes smiled to himself, taking hold of Weasel's collar so she couldn't follow. She would, if she could. She loved Roy enough to walk through fire for him and he suspected the feeling was mutual. It didn't surprise him though, Riza had mentioned that Roy had been very attached to some farm dog she had had as a teenager too. He suspected for someone as quiet and introverted as Roy, a dog was the perfect confidant, since they would never betray him and never deride him._

_He had only been gone a few minutes when Hawkeye returned, noticing his absence. "Where's Mustang?"_

" _He wondered off that way," he jerked his thumb towards the dark alley ways that Roy had wobbled off towards. "I suspect he probably drank too much and made himself sick and wants some privacy," he smiled at her then back down at Weasel, who was straining to follow her no doubt heaving master._

_She stared into the dark, as if she could see him and Weasel whined. "Shouldn't we go check on him?"_

" _Trust me, guys do not like it when other people see them, when unable to hold their liquor," he explained, taking a swig out of the bottle himself. As he did Weasel twisted out of his grip. Stupid Roy and making her a collar that was as thin as a necklace. It was sharp as shit if she pulled against it but then again she never pulled to get away from Roy. "Weasel, get back here!" he shouted and took off after her, Riza behind him. He wasn't quite sure why he bothered, she was a sight hound, bred and built for sprinting across the field and could beat a horse or an army truck at a dead run. He would never catch her but he also realized Roy would probably never speak to him again if he at least didn't try so they charged after the little bitch._

_He was surprised when he saw her standing at the edge of camp, looking back at them as if she were waiting. Once they got close, she took off again down an alley way then turned left. She wove them through the streets and alleys, occasionally stopping for them to catch up, or to press her long nose to the ground as if she were hunting. He was going to murder her, if this was just her chasing a cat. As they rounded the last corner, he knew it wasn't. Leaning against the wall in front of them stood Mustang, his side arm pressed to the underside of his chin, and finger on the trigger. He froze. It made sense, it all made sense now: Roy's super calm behavior; his worsening depression, his turning to alcohol; giving away his prize possession, Weasel. Roy had given so many classic signs that he was thinking of suicide and Hughes had missed them._

" _Roy," he heard Riza whisper beside him as she took a step forward but he held her back, not wanting to startle him. Mustang didn't even seem to notice they were there until Weasel rubbed against his leg, a low keen escaping her as she looks up at him. He didn't lower his gun though, Hughes could see his hands shaking like they hadn't been before. He's torn, he realizes. Mustang was wavering if he wants to do it or not. Maes seizes on that doubt the way Roy does an Alchemy equation._

" _Roy," he called and walked forward slowly, his hands up with his palms facing his friend. He didn't lower the gun but he did look over, movements alternating between sluggish and jerky. Mania and control, the two sides of his best friend played out so perfectly in that moment. As he got close but not enough to touch, he held his hand out, moving slowly. "Give me the gun, please. You don't want to do this." He stared into Mustang's eyes as he spoke, until the man dropped them._

" _Yes, yes I do," he mumbled and didn't lower the gun._

" _No, you're tired, you're sad but don't want to give up, not really. Not here, in the desert, away from your home and your family," he tried, wracking his brain for what his father said to do with people that were suicidal. You were supposed to remind them of good things and what was better than home and family. Of course he forgot that Roy's home was a room above a brothel and his only family was an Aunt that alternately ignored him or berated him depending on how soused she was in addition to occasionally going off on long, multi-lingual tirades about what a traitor to the Family he was. Her momentary lapses of affection were few and far between and seemed to make both herself and Roy uncomfortable. Maybe he needed a different track. "You have friends, friends that would be sad if you died." Friends were safer, they weren't many of them but he cared deeply for them._

" _Dr. Marcoh, he thinks I'm like Kimblee. I am like Kimblee," he stuttered and the gun still didn't move. He and Riza took another step forward._

" _He didn't mean it. He was shocked, we all were but he didn't mean it," Hughes tried. Roy had an odd fondness for Dr. Marcoh and Dr. Knox that he just couldn't quite fathom. He personally found Dr. Marcoh squirrely and tightlipped and Dr. Knox was just plain unpleasant. It was almost like a son's need to impress a father, in a weird way, especially with Marcoh. "Anyone that knows you, knows you are not like Red Lotus. Just looking at you now tells me you aren't like him," he tried._

" _I'm a plague. Ntwadumela, I'm a demon that kills with fire," he mumbled, eyes darting around. They were wide and unfocused. Letting him get drunk had been a really bad idea._

" _You are not. You are a man, an Alchemist, a soldier and you are tired. You're so tired you aren't thinking straight. Riza and I," he motioned to the woman slightly behind him, "we're your friends, we love you and we don't want you to get hurt. We would be sad, devastated if you died." Roy slumped but didn't drop the gun, not yet. He needed something else, something more important to Roy than making his friends happy. Damn the man and his introvertedness that made him generally not seek validation outside of himself. Marcoh being one of the few exceptions and sadly Crystal's harsh comments were part of the reason they were standing here._

_But it was right there, between him and Mustang. Something so stupid in the grand scheme of life and death but it might work, stranger things had happened. "Weasel, what would happen to her? I can't keep her Gracia is allergic to dogs," ok that was a lie but Roy didn't need to know that. "Riza can't, she lives in the barracks. She would have to be turned loose and alone, if she didn't pine herself to death over you." Mustang looked down at the dog he refused to admit was his, his left hand finally dropping from the gun to caress her nose and under her ear. She pressed even closer to him leaned into his touch._

_Hughes took it as a good sign and pressed on. "Do you want her to die alone, after you worked so hard those first few weeks to take care of her?" he asked._

" _My pretty girl," he whispered as he looked down at his dog._

" _And Riza," she finally stepped forward, but didn't touch him. "What would she do without you? You are the closest thing to family she has. She would be alone, you know it's no fun to be alone, Roy," he spoke softly, almost soothingly and stepped even closer. His eyes never moved from the gun still held under his best friend's chin. "Please Roy, let me have the gun. Then we can get you someplace you could rest."_

" _I don't know," he finally looked up at Hughes. "I don't know what to do anymore. I can't," he stuttered and finally moved the gun only to rub the back of his hand over his eyes._

" _You can't what?" Maes asked, moving the final step so he was standing close enough to take the gun, if only Mustang would hand it over._

" _I can't balance it," he snapped, resting the top of the barrel against his nose. "I can't make it make sense."_

" _What doesn't make sense, what can't you balance, Roy?" This time it was Riza. She had known him longer and in some ways maybe better than even he did._

" _There was 50 thousand people there and that plus the other's I have killed in other districts, not worrying about the anything under 10 because that is just statistical noise. But even only looking at the time from Order 3066 to now, I've killed about 81,000 Ishvalans, now the estimated population during their assimilation was 320,000 people, which means that personally I've killed about 1/4_ _th_ _of the Ishavalan population. If I destroyed 81 thousand water molecules I could still create 162 thousand Hydrogen atoms and 81 thousand oxygen atoms plus flame but how do you do that with people? Human transmutation is forbidden because nothing is equal to a human life, we are more than our component pieces more than salt, calcium, water, phosphorus. Nothing you have can create a life so how do I balance out this equation? How do," he finally dropped the gun, "I killed 50 thousand people in under 2 minutes. I created a new type of Alchemy more powerful than anything any one has seen. How do I live with that? How do I keep going when I can't ever balance it out?" Hughes finally got the gun and quickly handed it to Hawkeye who cleared the chamber and dropped the clip._

_He moved behind his friend to take his other pistol, tucking it into his own belt. He then wrapped his arms around Roy from behind, hugging the man to his chest. "I don't, Roy, I don't know but we'll figure it out. I promise. Things just seem impossible right now because you are tired," he said softly and felt rather than heard Mustang choke out a sob. "Shh, Roy, it's going to be ok. We're here, you don't have to figure this out alone," he soothed, as he lowered them both to the ground, his back to the wall and Mustang between his legs with his own knees pulled to his chest. He held his friend as he began to cry in earnest._

_He looked over at Riza, where she knelt beside them, running her fingers through his messy hair. "We need to get him some help," he spoke to her. He wasn't sure who but they needed someone._

" _Knox, I'll get Dr. Knox. He'll keep this quiet. He has a soft spot for Roy," she said and he was grateful she was willing to leave. He didn't know if he would be able to let his friend go, not after what he had seen. She rose to leave then stopped, coming back to sink in front of him. He wasn't sure Mustang even realized she was there. "I'll be right back," she told him then left, loping through the alleys._

_Hughes rocked them both slowly, trying to keep his shattered friend from flying to pieces, all the while cursing the Führer, the government, and this entire damn war. The best and the brightest of their country had been sacrificed for what, a few hundred miles of sand? Damn them, damn them all._

Edward looked around for his Mustang and found the man hadn't moved from where he was sitting on the floor, with his knees pulled up. He could see tears in his CO's eyes but they hadn't fallen, not like Edward's had. He wasn't sure what to do or to say. If he was honest, this was the first time he had ever been completely speechless. It was also the first time he had ever actually seen someone have a nervous breakdown. He had known that Mustang had fought in Ishval and had killed people but knowing that verses seeing it made a world of difference. He had never before really seen the Colonel as anything other than an annoyance that got in his way, not before this. Now he didn't know what he saw. He saw a man that had helped wipe out a people but clearly still punished himself for his actions. He saw a man with a type of skill and control that even he, with all his knowledge of the Truth, couldn't match. He saw a stranger because for the first time maybe he saw Roy instead of the Bastard Colonel.

Flame must have known Fullmetal was staring at him, "say whatever you plan on saying," he intoned, voice flat, clearly fighting back tears.

"You tried to kill yourself," he stuttered, perhaps the thing that struck him more than the killing was the way that Mustang had seem to give up. For better or worse, he had always seemed like a fighter to Edward not a quitter. He was the annoying guy that was always ahead of him, that had gotten a higher score on the State Alchemy exam, had been the youngest before him, was considered the smartest. He never seemed like the type that would just lie down and die.

"Yes I did, more than once, actually," he answered.

"But you're still here?" An obvious statement but his mind felt addled.

"As you saw, Hughes stopped me and he made me promise that anytime I felt like I couldn't take it that I would call him or Riza or even Gracia. I called them a lot those first few years," he admitted.

"What did they say to make you change your mind?"

"What didn't they say?" He huffed what might have been a laugh. "Mostly they told me I was loved and that I would be missed and all the touchy feely shit you are supposed to say but in the end it didn't make a difference. It's never why I decide to put the gun down on those days that I wake up and think, 'today, I'm going to blow my brains out'."

"Then what is it? What stops you?" Edward was legitimately curious and also slightly worried. It never occurred to him that Mustang was so unstable under his charming smiles and snarky comments.

"Random things like wanting to get to eat one more orange or see Riza smile again. Some nights I go find Al and talk to him," Edward was shocked to say the least. Al had never mentioned it.

"You talk to Al about wanting to kill yourself?"

"No, I talk to him about chess, Alchemy, or which birds he thinks are the prettiest. It's not what he says, it's that he is there of course he has no idea why I'm roaming around East City at 1 o'clock in the morning," he smiled ruefully. "But in the end, it was something Marcoh said to me, that we don't deserve to die. We deserve to live with what we have done every day because our victims don't have a choice anymore and they will never forget us or what we did to them. That's why I carry that picture you found," he weakly grasped his right thumb with his left hand. "It was taken that night, the one you just saw. It reminds me of what I did and that I don't have any right to have a clean, easy death. I haven't earned the right to give up. All I can do is try and atone for what I did but really how can I? If one life is so precious that it can never be recreated, how do you balance the scales of 81,000 murders?" Edward looked away. He had no answer because there was none. Nothing this man ever did could make up for what he had done. The more he thought about it, he felt small. His life was all about the 3 people in his family, Winrey, and Pinako. He only had to worry about them and about fixing what happened to him and Al and even that was overwhelming. He couldn't imagine being responsible for one death much less tens of thousands of them.

"I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," Mustang smiled at him. It was a sad smile. The type of smile that covered up someone's desire to cry but then he continued. "I envy you, Edward, you have no idea how much."

"Why? I am missing half my body and I trapped my brother in a suit of armor."

"Because the worst thing you ever did, you did for love. You were young and foolish but you did it because you thought you were doing the right thing. You sinned and you were punished and when you get your bodies back it will be over, forgiven. What I wouldn't give to be forgiven," he mumbled then took a deep breath. "You have never killed, never tortured, never stood by and felt yourself fall apart till there was nothing left. Hughes always asks me how I play with fire all the time and never get burned. It's simple, you can't burn ash and I burned away a long time ago." Edward didn't think it was true, not after seeing Roy with Riza and how much they loved each other. Ash didn't love but Roy did but the Colonel didn't see it. He couldn't see it past the giant hole Ishval and created in him.

"Why did you do it? You said I made my mistake for love, but why did you make yours? Why did you do this?" Edward sank down across from him, tailor style. He wasn't sure how to deal with a Mustang devoid of his armor. He seemed naked, vulnerable, human.

"It wasn't for love," he smiled again but this one seemed almost maniacal. "I did it out of idiocy, patriotism, ignorance. Take your pick. But mostly because I didn't know I had a choice," he sniffled and continued. "I was, am, a State Alchemist, combat rated and I have to follow orders, even if I don't like them. Anything else is treason and as much as I don't like the Führer, I wouldn't want to damage Amestris's strength by appearing a traitor."

Edward realized that things were much more difficult for Mustang, by his own choice of course but still. He had actual military rank and subordinates to protect. Ed only had himself and Al and neither of them were pushovers. "I see," he said non commitally.

"That's why I treat you the way I do, Fullmetal. I want you on the fringes, I want you away from people that could use you. Your clap alchemy, in a way is like my Flames. It's new and something they don't understand. They want to study it, weaponize it, use it to kill and if they can't figure it out, they will force you to do it for them. So I hide you and downplay your skill. I don't let you fight or go around most other Alchemists because most can't be trusted. Most are scientists and scholars, like I used to be, and only care about the Truth, not about how it will be used, that's up to others but in the end it's always the same. It always comes down to how efficient you are at killing." Edward was speechless.

"I know I'm nasty to you but I don't want people to think I like you because then they can use you for leverage against me and before you start yelling, I know you are tough but you wouldn't even know you were being used by half of them and I don't want you to be used, not like I was, because they'll just use you up," Mutang's speech was almost a stream of consciousness and was disturbing to listen to, especially since if he thought about it, he would have to admit that he was touched that Roy protected them. "I don't want you made into a weapon." He dropped his head.

They sat in silence for a while and Edward felt his eye lids droop and swore he heard the hated voice of the The Truth whisper, "see now, my children, it's time to sleep." When he opened them again, he was in his bed in barracks. He jumped up and ran out of his room. "Al, have I been in there the whole time?" he asked, looking around for a clock.

"Of course brother, where else would you have been?" Al answered.

"I don't know but we need to go to the library," he headed towards the door.

"Brother!" Al almost shouted, "maybe you should put on some pants."

Edward spent the next week researching everything he had seen in his dream to see if it was real. It was, even down to the story about the 4 dead bodies and the severed head being turned into the police. It was real. It was all real. He wasn't sure how he felt about it or how to treat Mustang, so he avoided the man. And it seemed that the Colonel was avoiding him too. All he got from him was a note saying to head to Central and stay out of the South and it was an order. Edward was about to start screaming until he thought about it. And two weeks later, when he saw the news that the war in the South had grown heated enough to deploy Alchemists, namely Flame, he smiled to himself trying not to think of the pictures of the battle fields turned into walls of fire. Maybe the Colonel wasn't that bad, but that didn't mean he was going to quit calling him bastard.


End file.
